


Breaking Point

by The_Chronicler



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-10 10:31:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10435725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Chronicler/pseuds/The_Chronicler
Summary: When the Seven go hunting a gang of thievin', rapin', murderin' desperadoes, it all goes horribly wrong. Now it's a matter of surviving the after effects. (Explicit for future flashbacks)





	1. Chapter 1

~~~~~  
Breaking Point  
By The Chronicler  
~~~~~

Five men hung from poles, their arms stretched to their limit, wrists tied to a cross beam high over their heads, their toes just barely grazing the ground. The sun had burned hot all day, leaving them burned and parched. Blood was dried and flaked down their wrists and arms. 

Josiah had been too big and heavy for the poles, so they tied him to a dead, rotting mule, figuring that that was something the big man couldn't move... much anyway. There was some mention about the stinking corpse being a torture beatings just couldn't match. Though he did make them a bit nervous when they took turns throwing punches at their dangling victims and Josiah roared in protest, nearly... nearly... getting that ass off the ground! That had discouraged the pack of mangy, violent desperadoes to cool their heals for a bit, throwing a punch only in passing, instead of making it their favorite pass time.

Ezra was curled up on the ground like forgotten trash, having taken a fierce beating in name of revenge for his so-called betrayal. After all, he was the one who had talked his way into the confidence of some members of this gang of cut throats. Over a game of cards he let them grow over confident with whiskey and winnings to tell him all about their little hide out. A nice, little, abandon way station with a half collapsed house and a shabby barn and lots of poles sticking up out of the ground with cross bars to dangle victims from when they were plenty enough to be had. 

So, when the Seven rode into their mists, "looking for work," accepting their greeting of welcome with "you all under arrest for murder, theft, murder, rape, murder, pillage.... did we mention murder? And, what the hell, man, cannibalism?!"

Well, naturally, the gang felt a wee bit betrayed. And when tables turned... the boss never did mention he had him some gernades from Europe... they just naturally took out their hurt feelings on poor Ezra, leaving him unconscious, in a bloody heap, just to one side of where JD dangled.

The youngest of the Seven, smaller and lighter than the other four hanging from the poles, seemed to have fared better in the beatings. JD had caught the attention of a pair of cockney sounding Brits from the gang. They kept the rest from laying into him too hard, despite the fact that they all had a good laugh at the way he swung on the pole when they hit him. He was too short for his toes to even touch the ground, to give him some brace against a strike the others had.

Oh, Buck and Vin growled warnings when the two Brits came too close to their youngest, though there wasn't much they could do but cuss them out. Even if JD didn't understand it, his more roughened and experienced comrades recognized the looks they had been giving the boy. 

Chris had simply glared, silent as death, not even reacting when he took a punch to the ribs. 

Now him, Chris Larabee, was one the Boss kept everyone away from. He seemed to be contemplating on whether he was the victor here, or, in fact, it was Chris with some shadowy pact with the devil in those hard, dark green eyes. Usually having a man tussled up was enough to to tell looser from winner but the Boss just couldn't shake those damn eyes. He considered just killing them all and being done with it. Then again this Judge Travis that ran the law in the territory was a peculiar fella. If the Boss wanted to run the show here abouts he had to figure out this Travis dude and these men were the best way to do that.

But he knew he couldn't keep them long. His own boys was a pack of blood thirsty heathens and they wanted their kills!

Up to the light getting dim and the first star appeared in the east, the Boss seemed to limit the damage to beatings, keeping even the Brits, which he seemed to favor, from doing too much harm. But, as the gang of twenty-two began to settle in for the night, a discussion was had about what to do with their captives.

"Slit the gambler's throat, roast the big one... he'd feed this lot for a week... skin the rest an' leave 'em for the bugs!" seemed to be the favorite of suggestions. That got a rallying cheer, though all but a couple didn't care much for Preacher Jerky. 

They weren't all together turning it down. Just weren't particularly thrilled with the idea.

The Boss kept his eyes on Chris, doing his best not to look unnerved by the unwavering glare that seemed to follow him no matter where he went. "I’m thinkin' I'll sleep on it." he finally grumbled, ending the culinary discussion on just how to get Josiah on a spicket. He turned and started for the house, which he had claimed for his own use. What little of it still stood.

"Boss, there no thinkin' to be done with that card chucker." spoke up one slinky devil, dragging out a rather large skinning knife. "He'd done us wrong, right enough. 'Sides, who wants to hear his moanin' all night long?"  
Despite the fact that Ezra hadn't made a sound since he had fallen where they dropped him, the rest of the gang agreed. No one, apparently even soulless, man-eating monsters, cared much for moaning and groaning when one was trying to sleep.

The Boss shrugged. Who was he to argue such a sound point? Not to mention, and he glanced at Chris one more time, maybe it was something that could shake the glare from that man.

Snatching the knife for himself, the Boss crossed over to Ezra. So intent on the task he misjudged the distance he was from the rest of the prisoners.

"Stay away from him!" the little one suddenly roared, kicking out and catching the Boss on the elbow, spinning him about.

With a roar, the Boss snapped right around, grabbing JD's front and bringing the knife to his throat.

"Don't you do it!" Josiah yelled, Buck, Vin, and Nathan adding their own shouts. There was even a grunt from the crumpled up gambler.

But the biggest protest came from Bill, the eldest of the two Brits. "Boss, suh, give 'im ta me 'n' Danny-boy! We'd just eat 'at tid-bit up. Make 'im really sorry 'e'd gone 'n' done 'at!"

Again the Boss threw a glance at Chris.

The blond leader of the Seven actually narrowed his eyes.

Yes! That was a reaction! 

The Boss stepped away, letting Billy and Danny-Boy cut JD down.

As soon as the kid hit the ground he was lounging. But a back hand from Billy sent him slamming back, Danny-Boy jumping on him instantly. Between the two of them, the Brits wrestled JD back, dragging and shoving, to the barn.

"Get off him!" Buck was yelling, Vin twisting on his ropes, trying to keep JD in sight even as they disappeared behind the barn door.

Slinky slid up to his side. "That's all an' good fer them but's what's 'bout the gambler?" he hissed eager to have his knife back to do the job himself.

But the Boss tucked the blade in his belt his eyes never leaving Larabee. "Let him sit through the night." he chuckled. "Worse than death is hearin' them Brits tare into some young ass. Let 'im listen to the screams awhile."

Those eyes narrowed even more and the Boss smirked. 

Yea, see who bests who! 

The Boss spun on his heal and once more started for the house.

"But..." wined Slinky, "ma knife..."

The Boss snapped his eyes about, slapping his minion with a glare of his own.

Slinky all but withered. "Jus' sayin', Boss.... looks good on ya...."

Again the smirk, and then the Boss was gone.

Slinky threw his comrades a glare of his own when they laughed at his predicament. But, finding no sympathy, he turned instead to give Ezra another rib breaking kick. Spitting on the man's back, he huffed, then turned to slink back to his own bed roll.

Shouts and cursing and crashes sounded from the barn, but it was too far away to get the exact words.

Buck tried to twist, but his arms were tighter bound than the lighter Texan beside him. So, he hissed "Vin! Can you see him? What'd they doing?"

Vin just shook his head. "They're in the barn. Don't know..." He didn't finish.

Didn't want to think about it.

They had spent the last two weeks coming across the remnants of what this bunch did to folks. There hadn't seemed to have been a preference, female or male, old or young, even alive or dead. Only three survivors and they were shattered rements themselves, unable to form sentences even. Bodies could heal, but the minds were so damaged it was hard to call them survivors at all. It seemed anyone that had the misfortune to land in their hands died a horrible death... or might as well have. 

It had been when they had jumped a stage coach in the territory that the Seven had finally caught a brake: some of the blood hadn't belong to the victims. Just so happened the nearest doc that these bastards could find was their very own Nathan. Three of them rode into town, one to die on Nathan's exam table... be amazed at the damage on of those two-shot lady pistols can do when shoved in a man's crotch... two to drown their sorrows at Ezra's card table. Ah, hell, they had sure liked Ezra back then. Well enough, in fact, to invite his whole "gang" on over to meet the Boss, who was, reportedly, always on the hunt for some talented, morally loose, capable men to make rich.

And now here they were, tussled up, ready for the slaughter.

All except JD, that is. 

A scream from the barn earned a round of rakish chuckles from the gang. 

"That'd be Billy Club goin' to work." one of the roughians explained to his captive audience. "Not that'd I'd be all that wet to watch, but there'd been no barn around enough times to know that what that man swings is more horse than man!" That received a round of laughter and knee slaps from his friends.  
But, from Josiah, who was swaying from one side to another as much as he could while lashed to the rotting corpse, came a deep, inhuman snarl that silenced all laughter. When eyes fell on him, he told the speaker in that deep, snarl "I will kill you! And, in those fiery pits of Hell, where I will cast you, may you find an endless nightmare of Hell hounds humping your ass for all eternity!"

There was silence for a moment, before another outlaw breathed "Well, that was some deep biblical shit now, Henry."

Henry huffed. "How'd you know, Cole? Closest you came to biblical was when you went an' dipped your quill in that nun back a ways. An' she the whole time holding that cross at you like it'd limp you up. If'n I'm goin' a burnin', you sure as hell are too for that one!"

Cole shrugged. "Well, 'lest we all won't be lonely." He actually winced when another scream ripped through the evening.

Henry crouched down just out of reach of Josiah. He did his damnest to stare the big man down. After all, this fella was tied to a five-day dead mule, reeking and crawling with maggots and rot, listening to his little brother get split in two by a couple of the most vicious dudes to ever cross the ocean. 

How much can a man take?

Another scream...

A cry....

But Josiah just glared right back, swaying left to right to left to right, as if he was trying to saw that rotten leg right off the rest of the corpse.

Finally, Henry spat at him. "Hell'd be like a home comin' for me, Preacher. So... come at me any time!" he growled, before lurching to his feet and spinning back toward his companions. "All you damned bastards turn in now! We be makin' ourselves a preacher size smoker come mornin' and it's gonna take the lot of you to get it done!"

Whooping and cursing and crashes and cries and screams continued from the barn. Enough that even the hell bound gang pulled their blankets up over their ears.

Nathan squeezed his eyes closed. "Oh, god..." he breathed. "JD..."

"Shut up." Chris finally spoke, his voice just as icy and deadly as his glare. "Pick your targets. When we get loose, kill every last goddamn, fuckin' one of them." came his order.  
None of his men knew how they would ever get loose. And they didn't care. all they knew was, when it happens, and, by god, it would happen, they would kill... mercilessly, without regret or second thought, without an ounce of pity.

They...

Will....

Kill.....

Them...

All!

~~~~~

The eastern sky began to lighten around six or so. Soon as the light hit the camp, Henry was on his feet, kicking and cursing the others up. He saved a particularly savage kick for the man who had been on guard when he noticed that Ezra had actually managed to crawl a few feet closer to the barn.

"What?!" protested the guard. "What's he gonna do? Bleed all over them?"

"Lazy ass, worthless..." Henry grumbled, but let it go. Whatever the beaten gambler might have thought of doing, he sure was in no condition to do it now. And a glance about at the other prisoners showed nothing else was out of place.

Though the damn Preacher was still swaying.

Gave Henry the willies, it did.

Which reminded him... 

"Greeson! You the smoker! Get to buildin'!" Henry roared. "Someone go tell 'em Brits the honeymoon's over!"

Slinky started for the barn, calling over his shoulder "Think they finished few hours back. Hadn't heard a peep in a bit now." He threw Buck and Vin a smirk as he passed. "Probably fucked the little bitch right on to his merry way."

"Wouldn't been the first time." Henry responded, throwing his own challenge at Josiah.

Slinky only made it half way across when the barn door opened on its own. "Woe, now, Billy, put the Club away! None out here wanna see that!" Slinky protested, holding a hand up to ward off the view.  
The Brit staggered in the doorway, one hand against the frame, as if holding himself up, the other holding his, true to reports, large club.

But, something was wrong with the picture. Slinky frowned at the hand with the cock. What the hell was it doing way up... there.... "Holy shit, mother of god, the Billy Club's been fucked right off!" he exclaimed.

Henry frowned, turning to see, as did the rest of the men.

Billy slipped to the ground, revealing a whole new startling scene.

JD Dunne, youngest and most innocent of the Seven, barefoot, in nothing but cut up jeans, stepped over the body, a gun in each hand, two more in his waist band. Pale in the morning light, his black hair a striking contrast, almost as much as the deep red blood in splotches over his bare skin, he, himself, almost looked like an avenging spirit come back from the dead to exact a terrible price for the wrongs done to him.

And he did.

Both guns bucking in his hands in the same breath.

Two men dead before anyone could completely grasp what they were seeing.

"JD!" Buck yelled.

But the kid never even looked in their direction. 

Another two shots, another two dead.

"Don't just stand about gaping!" Henry roared. "Kill the little bitch!" He dove for his own guns, still lying on his bed roll. Like the others, he had planned to take a piss, before belting on his equipment.

Before he could reach them though, the giant Josiah rose up from the mule's corpse, the leg he'd been tied to for near on fourteen hours sawed right off and being swung around like a club in the preacher's hands. The rotten, slimy weapon slammed into Henry with enough force to send him flying back to crash into the pole that dangled the twice deadly Chris Larabee.

The pole teetered, tipped...

Chris raised his feet, then kicked down with all his might, jerking the damaged pole right out of the ground. He dropped to the ground in a roll, dragging the broken pole with him. His hands were still tied to the cross beam, but he was loose.

Two more shots... only one died this time. 

The men were scattering, some already laying hands on their weapons.

Bullets hit the barn behind JD, but he didn't seem to notice. He walked as calm and quiet as could be, taking aim, firing, taking aim again....

"He's not thinking!" Nathan exclaimed. 

Another hit from the rotting club sent Henry slamming to the ground. Spitting teeth, he doubled up his fists. Damn it all to hell, he wasn't going out like this! But, as he began to roll up, his throat was smashed by the very big boot heal of the very big Preacher who sent him straight to the deep, fiery pits of hell.

"Josiah!" Vin yelled.

The big man glanced about.

Chris had already found himself a gun and was doing his fair share of damage, though he was never going to catch up with JD's bloody count. There just weren't that many left.

So, Josiah lowered his shoulder and slammed into the next pole, snapping it in half and dropping Nathan to the ground. "I'll get the boys!" Josiah told him. "See to Ezra!"

He hadn't finished before Nathan was already moving, snatching a knife up from a bed roll and throwing it, catching the bandit standing over the helpless Ezra square in the chest.

Two more shots, both hitting the same man. 

Buck hit the ground with a grunt. It took him only a breath to orientate himself and lunge. Despite hours upon hours hanging until his shoulders burned, his first swing broke a man's jaw, Hours upon hours of listening to his kid scream... he ignored the broken knuckle when he finished the man off with an upper cut that drove broken bone up into his brain. 

Vin was beside him, snatching up a fallen gun and killing another man without the slightest hesitation. He glanced at Buck. "Gun." he advised.

"Yea." Buck agreed, but he took another swing at another desperado as he ran pass. another cracked knuckle. He shrugged. "Feels good to just pound something though." he admitted. Still, he had only so many knuckles and the bastards were just too panicked to pound away at as they ran by. 

So a gun he found.

Two more shots, two more fallen bad guys.

Buck looked for JD.

It wasn't hard to find him. 

What was left of the gang was dropping like flies. Maybe seven were left on their feet and they were running from sweet, little JD.

And no wonder. 

JD walked as if in a daze, oblivious to anything and everything except his next kill. And even that was a dispassionate aim and pull of the trigger. When a gun was empty, he simply dropped it and pulled another from his belt. As he walked, he passed a man crawling on the ground, one of Nathan's stolen knives in his side. JD shot him in the head without missing a step.

Buck winced at the sight. Not that he had any love for the bastard on the ground. But JD... 

Kid had a soft heart, never really understanding why men went bad, did bad things. He came out west, became one of the Seven, rode at their side, not because he had some need to stop evil, but because he wanted to be someone good, a hero, a hope.

What Buck was seeing... was that hope gone?

Another shot dropped another man, a bullet in the back.

Three turned to face JD, taking shots of their own. 

JD ignored the bullets, the first three kicking up dirt at his feet, the next one ripping through the loose cloth of his torn jeans. Another left a bloody track just over his hip. The last rippled through his black hair. 

His own bullets, on the other hand, aimed with a cool, sure hand, found their marks, dropping two of the three.   
Vin and Buck dropped the third.

A last roar from Josiah as he used his rotting club to beat down one of the last two. Chris dropped the last as he returned from the house. 

And, suddenly, the camp was quiet.

Six men stood in varies fighting positions, eyes and ears open for any other threat or target. It seemed to take forever before it occurred to anyone that they had won, that they had lived.

Josiah was the first to move, dropping the mule leg and looking at his big hands. Rope was still wrapped around his wrists, blood and bits splattered across his arms. "Dear Lord..." he whispered.

Chris interrupted, demanding “Anyone seen the Boss?”

Then Nathan was dropping to his knees beside Ezra, checking on the gambler. "Vin! Find my kit!" he yelled, and Vin leaped to the task. "Anyone else..." Nathan started to call out, but stopped when he looked up to see JD walk across the camp to Buck.

His friends stopped everything to watch him. Their lamb turned rabid wolf... 

Buck stared at him. "JD... kid..." he tried to find the right words.

But JD nodded to the gun in Buck's hand. "Can I borrow that?" he asked softly.

Frowning, Buck glanced at the weapon, then held it out. 

"Thanks." came an almost light answer as JD accepted the gun and turned back to the barn.

"JD?" Josiah called after him. He started after, but stopped, looking down at his hands again. He couldn't touch JD covered in... this! He looked at Chris.

Chris took a deep breath and followed.

As calmly as he had come, JD walked back, sparing not even a glance at the bodies that had marked his path. He returned to stand over Billy, leveled the gun, and began to fire into the already dead body.

Buck flinched at the first shot. "Jesus.... What the hell...." He started for his kid.

Chris stopped him with an upraised hand. Braving the gun fire, he came to stand across the body from JD. When the hammer fell with a loud snap on an empty chamber, he held out the gun in his hand.

JD didn't even look up at him. He dropped the empty gun, took the new one, and fired the remaining three bullets. With an empty gun, JD just stood there, staring down at his tormentor, weapon still aimed.

Licking his lips, Chris reached out and took the gun gently from his fingers. "It's over. It's done. He's dead." he assured him.

JD's eyes remained locked on what was left of Billy.

"JD..." Chris reached out, laying a gentle hand on the kid's arm.

JD suddenly jerked away, his eyes snapping up at this new threat.

Chris froze. He told himself it was so he didn't frighten the boy anymore, that he didn't make things worse. The kid was in a fragile place, he could break at any time with any breath.

But, part of him realized that that look in those hazel eyes... those eyes that had always been bright and playful and trusting and eager... Chris Larabee couldn't help but be afraid of those eyes, now dark with hate and fear and pain and agony and horrors... Eyes that screamed silently that JD had already broke.

Then JD turned away without a word and walked back into the barn.

Chris actually gasped. What the hell was he doing? What did he know about helping? He was a fucking killer! What was a fucking killer going to do for a poor kid that had just been raped... oh, fuck, they had raped JD!  
"Josiah!" Chris called, looking over his shoulder for help.

Josiah was already on his way, using some found shirt to wipe his arms clean. Buck was step behind him, but even Chris knew that was a bad idea.

"Buck, help Nathan with Ezra." Chris tried to turn him aside.

Buck shook his head in protest. JD was more than just a little brother to him. His kid! His JD! And, damnit! He wanted to see him alright, see him fixed, see him being his kid again! And not that... that beast that had left the barn, what, ten minutes earlier.

Josiah turned and stopped him though. "No, Buck, Chris is right. Not you!"

The man balled up his fists. "That's... that's JD in there! I should... I have to..."

The big preacher looked at him with all the sympathy in the world. "You need to comfort him, bury the nightmare, and whisper him to sleep."

Buck bobbed his head. "Well, I'd maybe not put it that way..."

"What John needs is space." Josiah continued. "He's in shock, he's confused and frightened and angry and a whole lot of other stuff that he just doesn't get at this moment. He doesn't know his own skin right now. Let me... give him some time. To... gather himself, find his footing."

Frustrated, Buck growled out "So, now you the expert on fixing broken rape victims?!" He was sorry as soon as he had said it.

Josiah wasn't. "No," he answered softly, closing his eyes and remembering a time when his sister had been bright eyed and whole like JD had been just yesterday, "but I might know a bit more about the shatter pieces left behind." 

~~~~~

The barn was dark and cold and reeked of... of bad things.

Two big wagons sat side by side, both mostly full of loot from dozens, if not hundreds, for victims across four states. Some bits were shiny, gold or silver, or even a glittering diamonds. And some bits were torn and bloody, the tell tale signs of gruesome and violent deaths, and the horrors that must have occurred just prior and, in some cases, even after.

At the foot of one of the wagons was the body of Danny-Boy, his eyes bulging, his tongue hanging out. He had been strangled, the cute of the rope still visible around his throat. His trousers were gone, and the mess of his abdomen and gentiles was hard to distinguish. A bloody pitchfork still stood up out of what should have been his lower intestine.

"Can't say I'm sorry to see that." Chris breathed, nodding towards the mutilated body. Not sorry, but it still made his gut twist when he thought who had been responsible for the grisly scene.

Josiah was otherwise distracted, searching the dark corners for their lost lamb.

There, near the back, silhouetted by a collapsed outer door, was JD. He was just standing there, not doing anything, not really looking at anything.

"JD?" Josiah called softly. He took a tentative step toward him. "John? I'm not here to hurt you. I won't even touch you if you don't want me to." he assured, holding his hands out and away from his body.

Chris glanced at him sharply. Of course they weren't gonna hurt the kid! They were gonna take care of him! They always took care of each other! That's what they did! Chris wanted to shout at him, at both of them, of course they weren't going to hurt him! But he clamped his mouth shut, remembering those eyes. 

Josiah took another step after a moment of silence. "John, can you tell me how you are? Are you hurt?" he asked.

Again Chris wanted to yell at him. The kid had just spent the last eight hours being tortured... wrong word... RAPED by these bastards! Of course he was hurt!

But again he kept his mouth shut, knowing, in spite of his instincts, that Josiah knew what he was doing. It wasn't about actually taking stock of JD's bruises and cuts and... whatnots. It was about getting him to connect with them, with any of them. To reach out so they could help him back from the ledge.

Damn, Chris had never felt so helpless.

Josiah took another step, then froze.

JD looked at him. They couldn't make out his features with the light behind him, but his small body was tense, his movements jerky, not smooth like he had been moments earlier when he had walked through that killing ground of his own making.

The Preacher licked his lips. "John..." he started again.

JD turned away and walked out the collapsed bit and out into the sunlight.

"Where's he going?" Chris wondered.

Josiah growled his frustration. He glanced about for something to hit. Instead, he spotted something else. "Nathan's bag." He pointed. "Better get it to him." Then he snatched a blanket off one of the wagons and followed JD.

Out back Josiah could hear what must have attracted JD: rushing water. 

When they had scouted the camp early the day before, they had found the creak. In winter it would be a full fledged river, but now, at the end of summer, it was just a fast running creak, deepest bit maybe waist high. A deer path of sorts ran down the hill behind the barn. At some time way back when, the trail had been wider, probably used by the residences of the way station. 

The trail lead down to a rocky beach. Josiah hesitated when he saw a bloody footprint. He had to close his eyes, bracing himself. He wanted to help JD, but he also wanted to head on back up to the barn and put a couple of more bullets in Billy and Danny. For a breath he considered doing just that, just walking back up to the barn and wait for JD to come to them.

He didn’t want to do this.   
He didn’t want to be here.  
He didn’t want to remember.

But how could he walk away again?  
He couldn’t.  
He wouldn’t.  
Not again!

Josiah’s eyes snapped open when he heard a splash. 

JD had dropped what was left of his jeans on the beach and walked into the deepest part of the fast running water. It only came up to his hips, but it was deep enough. He crouched down until the water was up to his chest. For a moment he just sat there, not moving, letting the cold water wash over him. 

Josiah almost sighed, almost felt relief. The boy had stopped... finally. Taking a minute....

Suddenly JD grabbed at handfuls of water, scrubbing at his body, at his face, at his arms, his shoulders, his chest... every where. He was frantic, desperate, whimpering as he dug at his skin. Each rope burn, bruise, cut, bite...

Josiah watched as traces of blood colored the water as it rushed away. “Ah, John...” he breathed, feeling his chest tighten up. He crouched at the edge of the water. “John.” he called to him. “Son... please, look at me.”

JD’s hands paused, but only for a breath. He almost looked at him. Almost. Then he was scrubbing again. Nails dug into his skin, leaving bloody tracks, like he was trying to peel the skin right off.

Josiah spoke again, keeping his voice soft and steady. “John, please, look down at your arms. You’re hurting yourself.” 

Nothing.

“JD....” Josiah licked his lips. Then he snapped “John Dunne!”

JD stopped. Blinking, he looked down at his hands. They were shaking. His entire body was shaking. His teeth were chattering.

The preacher leaned forward. “John, you’re in shock.” he explained softly. “Something terrible has happened to you. I can’t begin to understand what you are feeling... but, if you let me, I can help you.”

JD glanced at him with shiny eyes. He wrapped his arms around himself, but made no move to step out of the water. For that matter, to come any where near him.

And that Josiah understood. He nodded slightly. “I won’t touch you.” he promised. He held up the blanket. “I’m going to leave this right here.” He set the blanket down and backed away. “I’ll be right over here. Okay? I promise I will stay right here until you say otherwise.”

The kid watched him for a moment, watching him back up to the tree line and crotch down, resting his arms on his knees. Then he looked at the blanket.Then back at Josiah.

True to his word, the big man wasn’t moving. He just crouched there, watching him right back.

Another moment passed. Finally, JD crawled out onto the beach to the blanket and wrapped it tightly around himself.

Josiah let out a long breath, closing his eyes just long enough for a silent thanks. When he looked up again, JD was on his feet. Teeth still chattering, whole body shivering, but he was standing and wrapped safely in a big, warm blanket.

It was a start.

Then came a very little voice: “’Siah?”

Josiah almost wanted to cry with relief. “Yea... yea, John. Right here.”

“Promise me something?” came that little voice as big, hazel eyes blinked at him out from under wet, coal black bangs.

“Anything!” Josiah answered, ready, willing, and able to give him anything in the world he could possibly ask for.

“Don’t bury me under a tree.”

Josiah’s chest seemed to collapse in on itself. He managed to gasp “What?”

“I don’t wanna be buried under a tree.” JD looked up at the sky, his head so far back, Josiah could see finger shaped bruises at the nape of his neck. “I wanna see the sky, feel the warmth of the sun....” His voice faded, his eyes rolled up, and Josiah had to dive forward to catch him before he hit the ground.

~~~~~

He was a tall man, lean. The kind of lean that comes from growing up with not enough good food and far too much fighting. His eyes were shadows, his lips thin, skin pot marked. He was not a handsome man. He was a hard man, cold and calculating, raised on struggle and violence. He was merciless, soulless, completely free of morals. What he wanted he took. He had only one fault in his minds eyes: two brothers. It had always been his responsibility to keep them fed and alive, no matter how, no matter who had to suffer to see it done.

He had kept them alive all through London, Germany, New York...

And, now, here, in the middle of nowhere, he stood over their mutilated bodies, left for the bugs and beasts...

“What ‘appened?” he snarled.

The Boss fidgeted. “Fifty of ‘em. Jus’ ran us... well....”

Those shadowy eyes looked at him. “Fifty, eh? an’ ya tussled up only four?” He waved a scarred hand at the broken poles.

“Well... we caught the scouts... the res’ came outta nowhere...”

“Tracks?”

“Huh?”

Gregory Gray turned to face the man, snapping his long slicker back behind his low hung guns. He reached up and pushed his dusty black top hat back. “Mister Swan, ah’m in ‘e mind of doing some killin’. What you tell me next decides if’n it’s you or someone else...”

Boss Swan gulps. “Ya ever heard of them Seven men from Four Corners?”

~~~~~


	2. Chapter Two

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Two

~~~~~

Judge Travis looked up from the desk as Chris and Vin walked in. He’d been going through papers is the Sheriff’s office. “You look... frustrated.” he observed of the two dusty men.

Vin huffed “That’s one way of putting it.” He leaned his rifle against the desk, and snatched a tin mug and headed for the coffee pot.

It had been three days since they had returned to Four Corners. As soon as they had seen Ezra and JD settled and convinced Buck he had to stay and look after the town, Chris and Vin had mounted up again and headed right back out. 

The Boss was still missing. They had been determined to hunt him down. They had failed.

Chris dropped into a chair across the desk from Travis, stretching his legs out before him with a groan. “Someone cleaned up before we got back.” he told the Judge. “Burned to the ground. House, barn, bodies...”

“Two graves.” Vin reminded him, offering a mug of coffee, before finding himself a seat on the edge of the other desk, wrapping his fingers around his own mug.

“Only two?” Travis frowned at them. Looking down at his papers, he mumbled “Buck said there were at least twenty bodies.”

“Twenty-one.” Chris confirmed.

Vin tapped a stack of papers on the desk. “We had papers on fifteen of them. Two were local boys who would have ended up the same eventually anyhow. Another two we don’t know who they were. And the two Brits. Twenty-one.”

Travis was still frowning. “But only two graves.”

“William and Daniel Gray.” Vin snarled.

“Billy Club and Danny-boy.” Chris gulped his coffee.

The judge raised his chin in understanding. “The men who had hurt JD.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. But then there was a new question: “Swan buried them?”

Now Chris straightened and frowned. “I don’t see it. He’s a stupid, evil bastard.”

Vin agreed. “The others were barely dragged into the fires. No one cared more than to get rid of evidence.” 

“Someone else then.” Travis concluded. He leaned back and rubbed his chin. “The fact that he had a grenade... and used it... concerns me.”

Vin shook his head. “It wasn’t packed right. Big bang, some mild burns and scrapes, but not the shrapnel you’d expect. I don’t think he knew how to use it.”

“They can be tricky.” Chris admitted. “During the war we had a few lobbed in our direction. Mostly we caught them in blankets and tossed them back.”

“My concern is where are they coming from? How many are out there? Is this someone else, someone apparently connected to two foreigners, supplying them? Does he know how to use them” Travis explained. “Imagine one thrown into a bank or at a stage coach!”

“Things get pretty messy real quick.” Chris answered. He ran a dusty hand over his tired face. “Well, we’re not done hunting Swan. Just needed to check on the boys before heading out again. Get our hands on him and he’ll tell us all about it.”

Travis looked from one man to the other. “No... you boys need a bath, hot food, and a night in a bad under a roof. You took Swan’s gang from him. He’s gonna be looking to fill out his roster before he does anything big again. Gives us some time. I have a few telegrams. We’ll wait to hear back from my contacts before we send you out again.”

Vin moaned at the thought, breathing as if it was a prayer “Bath... food... bed...” 

Chris and Travis both chuckled. The Judge nodded to the door. “Go on, Vin. I want to have a word with Chris before he can escape.”

Vin frowned a little, glancing at his friend. With a nod from Chris, the tracker picked up his rifle and headed for the door. “Think I’ll check in on the boys before I do much of anything. See you all when I see you.” 

When the door latched behind him, Chris looked a question at his employer.

Judge Travis sat straight up, adopting his most professional demeanor. “I want to talk to you about JD.”

Chris couldn’t help but stiffen up. He set the mug down on the desk and looked at the man. He’d wait for Travis to lead this conversation.

The Judge wasn’t the type of man to pussy foot around a topic that was serious and in need of being discussed. “What JD did, killing those men... was it self defense or was it revenge? Was he in control of his actions?” he wanted to know.

Chris’ jaw set and he growled “There’s not a man in that bunch that didn’t need killing.”

“That is not your job to decided. That is the court’s job...”

“Would you have decided different?! After all the killing, raping... RAPING JD!... Jesus, Travis! They were going to smoke ‘Siah and EAT him!”

Travis set his own jaw. “I hired you men to bring law to this territory. Not to be judge, jury, and executioner!” When Chris began to rise from his seat, Travis raised a hand. Calmer, he continued “I am not saying that there was any other way to bring this gang down. There is no argument that they were the scourge of this... of several territories.”

Chris allowed an ever so slight smirk. “Scourge?” he repeated.

The Judge set back a little. “I admit it. I have found myself drawn to dime store novels.” He chuckled. “JD’s fault really. His enthusiasm peeked my interest.” His amusement faded into a sad smile. “He’s a good boy... a good man.” He took a deep breath and met Chris glare for glare. “But even the best of men have a breaking point. He killed ten men in as many minutes. You can not tell me that that is a normal response from that young man!”

Chris held his glare a moment more, before, finally, dropping back in his chair with an exhausted sigh. “Travis, if JD hadn’t come out with guns blazing... yea, I might have read one of his books too... If he hadn’t, we’d be dead. Do I think he came out completely aware of what he was doing?” He paused to run a hand over his face. He took a deep breath and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but... who would be? I sure as hell wouldn’t be! Hell, I already wanted to see every last one of them dead and I’d hardly been touched! What they did to JD... But that was four days ago, Travis. I haven’t even talked to any of the boys in the last three. Did JD find his breaking point? Maybe. Did he break beyond repair?” Again a pause, again a tired sigh. But his answer was strong and determined “Hell, no! Not one of us will ever give up on him! We will not lose him!”

Judge Travis watched him, listened to every word carefully. He crossed his arms on the desk and leaned forward. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Chris repeated, startled. Did he miss something? Alright just seemed a little too... alright for the topic at hand.

“Chris, I trust you. And I trust your men. My concern is, ultimately, for JD’s well being. If you believe you can take care of him here, keeping both him and the town safe, then I will trust your judgment. But, if for any reason you began to doubt that you can, tell me! I will find help for the boy.... what help may be had.” Travis promised.

Larabee looked at the older man, actually astonished by the promise. He had expected a messy fight to keep JD home. But, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Chris decided it was time to move on before things went south. “Well... I appreciate that, Judge. If we’re done, think I could be hunting me some of that bath, food, and bed mentioned earlier.” He rose and turned for the door.

“One more thing, Chris.” Travis called after him. “You should know...”

Chris almost groaned. Instead he turned back. “Yup?”

“Sister Mary Margret?”

Chris nodded once, recognizing one of the survivors. 

“She took her own life day before yesterday.” Travis told him. “She slit her own wrists while taking a bath.”

The gunman dropped back into the chair, staring in disbelief. “What?” he managed.

“Tony Sinclair?” 

The only male of the three survivors... two survivors.

“Found slamming his head into the wall, cracking open his own skull.” Travis supplied. “The doctors believe the damage he has done to himself is so severe that he won’t ever wake up again.”

Chris just stared at him, lost for words.

Travis leaned forward again. “Chris, do not think for a moment that the damage those bastards did to JD is over! In many ways, perhaps the most important ways, it’s just begun.”

~~~~~

Vin Tanner was pissed off. “What the hell do you mean you’ve been keepin’ them quiet?! You been pouring laudanum in them this whole time?” 

Nathan crossed his arms over his chest, tilted his head, and waited with a doctor’s patience for Vin to calm down. “Not this whole time. Ezra is quite alert and awake right now, sitting up, eating... broth mostly, his jaw is still pretty sour. Think we’ll keep it to broth another day or so...”

Vin threw up his hands. He looked at Buck. “You were okay with this?” he demanded, waving a hand at the doors behind Nathan.

Buck was leaning against the balcony rail, watching the whole scene. He gave a shrug. “No, but Nathan had a good argument. Ez and JD.... well, they were both pretty bashed up. Keeping them still long enough to get done what needed to be done...”

“Particularly JD.” Nathan added.

Vin flinched. 

Nathan took a deep breath.

Seemed everyone was taking deep breaths lately. Trying to stay in control in completely out of control situations. 

“Vin, Ezra has a broken foot, broken ribs, bruises, cuts, pretty sure his cheek bone is fractured... The wagon ride alone was hell on him. JD...” Again the deep breath to try and control the impossible to control. “JD was worse. ‘Least Ez understood we were helping him. You know where JD was hurt? Where the infection was that needed cleaning? How do you think a wide awake rape victim responds to being touched? And the fever just kept climbing... I had to do something!” Screw breathing and control, damn it! “You know he thought I was attacking him?! Even asleep he cried out, tried to push me away! If I could keep him out of it until he’s completely healed up... if I could keep him out of it until he forgot everything... I would, damn it! But I can’t! So...” Okay, deep breath again... “So, I do what I had to do to cause him... them as little discomfort as possible.”

Vin ground his teeth. He looked at Buck.

Buck seemed to be leaning even more on the rail, his face pale, his eyes burning a hole through the floor.

He looked at Nathan again. 

The doctor looked like he had gone through at least half as much as his patients had. Come to think of it, they had all taken some punches and kicks, all had bruises and cuts. On top of that Nathan had been up with Ez and JD since day one, bouncing between one and the the other, when ever he was needed, where ever he was needed, giving everything he had to those who were counting on him.

It was Vin’s turn to take a deep breath. Pushing his hat back, he leaned against the rail beside Buck. “Okay, I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.” He glanced at Buck, then Nathan again. “How are they?”

Nathan nodded slightly. “Ezra is already complaining about the indignity of it all. But, at least, he’s laying still.” He actually chuckled. “Somehow he managed to protect his hands and fingers. Not a mark. Been playing cards since he woke up. Says it keeps his head focused.”

“JD?” Vin prodded.

Nathan sighed. “On top of shock and infection and fever and the obvious sensitivity of his injuries...” Another deep breath.

~~~~~

It hurt.  
His neck...  
His wrist...  
His head...  
His shoulder...  
His back...  
It was like a kaleidoscope of pain, all swirling and blending, forming new shapes while ripping apart the old...

And the worse of it, so deep inside, taring at him from deep in his gut, like being split in two...

He screamed!

“JD!”

No, the worse was being held down, unable to push the pain away.   
Couldn’t run...  
Couldn’t fight...  
Couldn’t breath...

Fuck you!

“JD, it’s alright...”

The burn of teeth digging into flesh, laying claim: “You’re all mine now” that bite said.

Go to hell!

“John! Wake up!”

The screaming pain as a cock was rammed into his ass, fingers wrapped around his throat as if he was some wild mustang and they were breaking in a new mount...

I’ll kill you!  
I’ll kill you!  
I’ll....  
Get off! Get off! Get off Get off GetoffGetoffgetoffgetoffgetoff....

“JD!”

With a kick and scream, JD threw himself away from the attack. He fell off the bed, scrambling back across the floor as quick as humanly possible until his back hit solid wood. His fists, balled up and ready for the defense, swung out before him, blindly striking for whatever might come too close.

It took several gasping breaths, before it made it through his panicked mind that his fists weren’t making contact with anything. Still holding his fists at the ready, JD forced his eyes open. It was a battle just to open his eyes, almost as if they had been glued shut. But when he finally got them open he blinked around at the room.

It wasn’t the barn.  
And the man standing at the foot of the bed a few feet away was not Billy Club or Danny-boy.

“JD?” the big man called to him again, crouching down.

JD jerked back at the movement of the big man, slamming back against the wall again.

The man held up his hands. “Alright.” he breathed. “Just coming down to your level. I won’t come any closer.” he assured.

The boy blinked at him for a moment, before pulling his legs up against his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He blinked again at the big man. His head seemed to weigh a ton. Felt thick, sluggish... like wading through a thick fog of thoughts...   
Memories...   
He shied away from those.   
Didn’t want those.  
Closed his eyes against them.

Shadow fell over him.  
Hand pressed against the small of his back, pinning him.  
The fingers pulling at his hair.

Big man...  
Preacher...  
Josiah Sanchez...  
Josiah!

His eyes snapped open again. “’Siah?” he whispered.

Josiah smiled back. “Hey there.” he answered softly.

JD stared at him. “You didn’t bury me.” he observed.

Josiah settled back against the bed post. “No, kinda figured you be pissed off if I had, considering you weren’t dead.” 

The kid stared at him another moment before turning his head to look around at his surroundings. He instantly regretted the movement as a wave of nausea washed over him. With a groan, he dropped his face in his hands, closing his eyes against the swirling world.

“That’d be the laudanum.” Josiah explained, sounding apologetic. “Bit of a...”

The ground struck his back with bone jarring force, all air escaping his lungs.  
No air!  
Every where he turned, he breathed in the rancid smell of their breath as they huffed and puffed over him.   
Hot, reeking, dripping of lust and rot...  
Desperately, reaching out, trying to find some air... find some escape....  
A boot slammed down on his wrist, snapping bone...  
He screamed....

“JD!” Josiah cried.

His eyes snapped open just in time to catch Josiah leaning forward. Again he jerked back against his wall, snapping out “Stay there!”

Josiah froze. He even stopped breathing for a moment or two.Then, carefully, moving very slowly, he eased back again. “Alright, alright. I won’t move.” he promised again. “It’s just... you cried out... I was worried...”

JD blinked at him. 

The big man licked his lips. “John... what happened when you closed your eyes?” 

Those hazel eyes began to turn hard, anger began turning in his gut. 

Why would Josiah ask him that?  
Wasn’t he supposed to be his friend?  
Why would he want him to think about that?  
To remember that?  
To remember....

JD blinked again. He raised one hand to see the bandage around his wrist, holding the splint in place. As if, with his awareness, it just became real, the wrist began to throb.

Josiah tried again “Can you tell me about your wrist?”

JD’s eyes narrowed as they tilted up to glare at him. “It connects to my hand.” was his cold answer.

The big man hesitated. He forced a smile that anyone could tell he wasn’t feeling. “Yea, I suppose it does.” he offered up.

“What do you want?!” JD suddenly snapped at him.

Josiah flinched.

JD felt some satisfaction at that flinch.   
Yea, he did that!  
He was fighting back!  
He was always gonna fight back!  
He was never gonna stop fighting back!  
It was his turn to hurt someone...

JD flinched at his own thoughts. Guilt and disbelief swirled around in his gut. Did he really just think that?

He dropped his eyes, searching the floor boards for something he thought, maybe, he had lost somewhere. Some little bit of him that didn’t want to hurt anyone, that didn’t lash out at friends...  
‘Cause that was what Josiah was!   
He was a friend!  
A good friend!  
Brought him a blanket when he was cold!  
Worried when he screamed at nothing, just a fucking memory that he kept wanting him to remember...

What the hell type of friend would want him to remember that?!

“John.” came that deep, reassuring voice. 

JD looked up again to see Josiah watching him with eyes so filled with concern they almost looked frightened.

“I only want to help you.” Josiah explained softly, holding his hands out as if to show him he wasn’t armed or dangerous in any way. “Being angry is perfectly natural. You’ve been through a horrible experience. It will take time to adjust...”

“There’s nothing to adjust too!” JD cut him off, his words coming out way to fast. “I’m fine... just beat up a little. We all been beat up before.”

Josiah frowned. “John, you were more than just beat up a little.” he protested. “You were raped.”

JD’s eyes narrowed to a dagger sharp glare. “Shut! Up!” he snarled.

Again Josiah flinched.

JD pushed himself against the wall, sliding up until he was on his feet.   
Everything hurt.  
Everything within him screamed in protest.  
But he didn’t care!  
This was his body!  
Let it scream!

“John...” Josiah tried again, staring up at him. He moved as if to rise up himself and offer help, but he remembered his promise and stayed where he was.

“I said I was fine!” JD continued to snarl down at the man suddenly not so big on the floor. “I can take care of myself! I don’t need you! I don’t need anyone! I don’t want anyone!”

The words seemed to have an almost physical effect on Josiah, crushing him down until his whole being seemed to fall back like a whipped puppy. Even his big, gray eyes glistened.

JD felt that tinge of guilt again.   
His head bubbled with warring emotions. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness, pull the blanket over his head and hide away in shame. And he wanted to grab something, anything, and start swinging, striking out, hurting everything, making it bleed and cry and scream like he had, making someone feel like he felt!

And there was Josiah, hurt and emotionally bleeding, but always forgiving, always thinking of others first.

Damn him!  
Why didn’t he fight back?  
Why didn’t he yell at JD?  
Hurt him back?  
Why did he just sit there and take it?  
Damn him!

“I’m going to stand up now.” Josiah said softly, watching JD for a reaction. “I’m going to back up to my chair, alright?”

JD frowned. He shrugged as if he didn’t care. Still, he flinched when the big man rose up.

Josiah kept his hands up as he backed up to his chair on the other side of the bed and settled back down. He picked up the book that had fallen and flipped through the pages until he found his spot. 

JD glared at him another moment, waiting. When Josiah continued to read, he growled “You don’t have to stay!”

“I know.” was the simple answer. Josiah turned the page and continued to read.

After another moment, JD slid back down the wall. He couldn’t help but groan as worn and bruised muscles protested. Most everything throbbed, and what didn’t was a variety of stabbing pains. He wondered a moment at each pain...  
The small stabbing in his back: bite mark.  
The throbbing wrist: broken.  
The burning neck: when hands had grabbed his hair and jerked his head back.  
The stabbing agony inside his thigh... 

Danny-boy twisted his leg up and wide until his hip popped and pressed his cigarette into the sensitive skin, breathing in the smell of burning flesh.   
JD cried out, arching his back, twisting, trying to get away.  
But the brothers just laughed, holding him in place.   
Danny-boy tossed the cigarette aside and leaned down to lick the burn. “mmm, taste like pigeon!”

JD jerked against the wall, swatting at his legs with a whimper. It took only a few swats before he realized that Danny-boy wasn’t there.  
He wasn’t anywhere any more.  
He was dead.  
JD had killed him.

Shivering, JD wrapped his arms around himself and looked up. 

Josiah was watching him. He hadn’t moved from his chair, but he was watching him very closely. 

JD dropped his eyes. “Laudanum?” he mumbled. “You drugged me?” he tried to sound angry, but he was just too tired and sore to muster it just yet.

Josiah sighed, laying his book on his lap. “You were very sick when we got you back here. Your... wounds...”

JD’s eyes snapped up. 

The Preacher stopped. He licked his lips, closed his book, and tossed it on the bed. Leaning forward, he started again: “John, you were raped. Repeatedly. Your insides were torn up and infection had started. Nathan had to clean the infection. The fever took over for nearly three days, broke just this morning. Laudanum was what we had to help you sleep and recover.” 

The boy stared at him for a long, silent moment. He was shivering again. “Three days? I don’t remember...” His nose scrunched up as he tried to work it out. He shifted slightly, feeling stitches and bandages and spots scrubbed clean and raw. 

They had cleaned him.  
While he was asleep.  
Asleep because they had drugged him.  
He had been helpless, unable to fight, to defend himself...  
And they laid him on his belly, spread his ass cheeks and...

It had been Billy Club who first pushed a finger inside him.  
He had bit his lip, still believing he could get out of this, that he could fight them off.  
Another two fingers, and JD couldn’t hold back the cry. He kicked and cussed at them, but it was just more fun for them.  
“Oi, Danny-boy, he’s as fresh as a baby girl.” Billy had whooped, slapping JD’s butt.

JD whimpered, jerking back again. Frantic eyes darted about, trying to locate his tormentors.

“John, look at me.” Josiah called to him, his voice always soft and steady. 

Hazel eyes found him quickly enough, and the sight of the big man, even way over there, settled JD’s nerves just a bit.

“They’re gone.” Josiah told him. “They are never going to hurt you again.” he swore.

JD nodded slightly. “I know.” he breathed. He hesitated. “Just... I don’t want any more laudanum. I don’t want you guys... No more touching... okay?”

Josiah sat back in his chair. “No more laudanum. No more touching.” He sure hoped Nathan agreed with that last one. “No one is going to do anything you aren’t alright with.” he promised. He paused, then leaned forward again. “But, John, you need to know that Nathan and me and the boys... we didn’t hurt you. We won’t hurt you. You need to believe that! Please... believe that.” It was the first time his voice broke. 

JD blinked at him. And blinked again. he pulled his knees to his chest again and wrapped his arms around his legs. Anger and fear and hate and confusion and the whole world went to war in his head. 

And there he sat with his back to the wall, silently watching Josiah across the room.

The big man sighed. He took up his book again and leaned back in his chair. He would wait for as long as JD needed. He would wait the world away. 

~~~~~

Mary carried her basket full of sandwiches and broth across the street and up onto the boardwalk, heading for the hotel the Seven called home. Now that Chris and Vin were back, she was hoping, this time, she would succeed in talking a couple of them into taking a break, get some sleep, relax for a few. The town needed them.

“Begging your pardon, madam.” spoke up a tall figure as he stepped into her path. “Can ah bother you a moment?”

With a start, Mary looked up at the man. 

A smile of rotten teeth greeted her from under shadowy eyes and a worn, dusty, black top hat. A quick glance, one she would never have taken before she had met Chris Larabee, told her he was wearing guns under his long slicker. Worn boots and canvas pants and a leather vest worn over a striped blouse finished off this stranger’s look.

Mary stepped back a little, hoping she didn’t look as put off as she felt at the interruption. After all, she was basically the meet and great for Four Corners, her newspaper being the only real center of information here abouts. “No bother. How can I help you, Mister....” she tiled her head, waiting for him to fill in a name.

He continued to smile that rotten smile, ignoring the hint. “You were pointed out to me... Mrs. Travis, am ah right?”

Mary glanced about, almost hoping to see just who had pointed her out. “Yes, I am Mary Travis.” she answered hesitantly. “You’re new to Four Corners, aren’t you? Is that a London accent?”

Again that rotten smile. “Mrs. Travis, would you be a lady and give this to one of the men employed be your father-in-law?” He held out a round ball.

Mary stiffened, taking another step back. “Excuse me?”

A scarred hand snapped out, grabbing the arm holding the basket and dragging her close.

“Stop... Let me go!” she cried out, pulling against his hold. But his long fingers dug into her arm like claws.

Holding her so close she could smell his rancid breath, he told her “Ah have no interest in hurting you, gurl, but do not think for a moment that that means ah won’t. You and your fine an’ proper self jus’ don’t mean enough to me one way or another. Livin’ or dead.” He shoved the ball into her basket. “Give it to one of those buggers an’ you won’t have a bloody thing to worry ‘bout.” He released her so suddenly and stumbled back.

With a gasp, she took a few quick steps back until she hit a hitching rail. 

“Mary!” someone called.

With a wave of relief, she looked over her shoulder to see Buck jogging towards her. Reassured, she turned to face her attacker.

But he was gone.

As suddenly as he had appeared, he had vanished.

A hiss came from her basket. Looking down, Mary pulled out the ball.

It was a heavy, cold iron thing with a long string out of the top. The end of the string was sparking.

And she knew exactly what it was she was holding in her hand.

Mary Travis was holding a lit grenade.


	3. chapter Three

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Three  
~~~~ 

“Mary!” Buck landed on the boardwalk in front of her with a long legged leap.

“Buck...” she started with wide eyes.

“Hiya, Mary. Just one sec...” His tone was casual, even playful, but his movements were very precise, steady, professional. With a pinch, he nipped the fuse, pulling it free from the explosive, disarming it. Then, just to be sure, he took the grenade in his hands, turned, and dropped it in a water trough. Spinning back, he snatched Mary up, pushed her against the wall, and shielded her with his own body.

They braced against the explosion, Mary hugging his chest, Buck closing his eyes against the expected boom.

But the boom never came.

“Buck! Mary!” Chris yelled as he ran across the street toward them from the Sheriff’s office.

Buck pushed away from the wall, looking over his shoulder at the trough. He let out his breath and looked down at the woman still hugging his chest. “So... wanna dance?” he asked her.

~~~~

Vin set the grenade on the table. Water still dripped from it, quickly forming a puddle around the weapon. “Well, this one was packed right.” he told the men around the table. “This one could have done a lot of damage.”

“So...” Chris wondered, “why didn’t it?”

Buck stood a little taller, bobbing his head from side to side, a cocky smirk in place.

But Vin held up the fuse. “At least a five minute fuse.”

Buck deflated a little. 

The five men were gathered on the balcony in front of the rooms Ezra and JD were using. The hotel owner, more than once having been saved by the Seven, supplied a table and chairs so the men could stay close to their wounded, yet not disturb them with their discussion. Besides, Judge Travis paid well to keep his men housed and comfortable.The owner had no problem going out of his way to see it done. If fact, though usually the Seven preferred the tavern, all six rooms on this floor, had been reserved for them for the time that their brethren were mending.

Nathan frowned. “It could blow us up, but no time soon.” He concluded. “Mary would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to walk around for five minutes without realizing there was a fuse burning along side lunch.” Shaking his head, he complained “Doesn’t make sense. Does he or doesn’t he know what he’s doing?”

“Not to mention who the hell is he? ‘Cause he sure wasn’t Swan.” Buck wanted to know. 

Vin looked at Chris. “Like the judge said... there’s someone else.” 

“With an English accent.” Buck remembered Mary’s description for them. He tapped the grenade. “I’d bet he’s the source of these damn things.”

“Turn it over.” Josiah spoke up from where he stood, leaning against JD’s closed door, his arms crossed over his chest. 

Chris frowned at him. But, knowing the Preacher had world of experiences beyond even the leader of the Seven himself, he stepped up to the table, took the grenade, and turned it over.

Etched in the bottom of the grenade was a tiny symbol. Two swords crossed over a lion and a crown.

“British made.” Chris informed them. “British man with a British grenade burying a couple of British bastards...”

“Well, shit.” Buck mumbled. “Fuckin’ Revolution all over again.”

Vin took the grenade. “These usually come with a smaller fuse. Just pull the plug, the scrape ignites the fuse, and you have a few breaths to toss it and get back behind cover. This... Brit removed that and put in the longer fuse.” He held it up and looked at each of them in turn. “He knew what he was doing!”

“So... why?” Nathan wanted to know. “A warning? Threat?”

“Introduction.” Josiah answered. When the others looked at him, he explained “He wasn’t there when we took care of his gang. We never met him. Now, we know. He knows who we are, he knows how to get to us, and he’s not afraid of us.”

“Well how do you do.” Buck huffed. “Whatever happened to an ol’ fashion handshake?”

~~~~

JD was leaning against one side of the window, watching the alley below when Josiah opened the door and slipped back in. He stiffened at the sound of the door, glancing at the big man.

Josiah took a moment to locate him in the dark room. When he did, he tried to offer a smile. “Thought you’d be asleep.” he admitted.

JD didn’t answer, just watched him with his back against the wall, tense and ready... just in case Josiah decided to attack.

Josiah sighed. He returned to his chair and stretched his legs out. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and imagined that he might actually get some sleep for once. He was beginning to really hate that chair.

After a moment of silence, JD asked “Is Mary alright?”

Josiah opened one eye, then the other. He peered across the room to the boy. “I haven’t spoken to her, but, by all reports, she’s fine. She’s a tough girl. Knows how to keep her head through an ordeal. Bounces right back, ready for the next.”

JD flinched. “And I don’t?” he hissed as if Josiah had accused him of something.

Again Josiah sighed. “I didn’t say that.” he pointed out.

“Really? Might as well!” JD snapped. “Think I couldn’t hear you all talking out there? Voices whispering behind the door, talking about it all!” He dropped his eyes, mumbling “Used to be I was part of them talks.”

“John, I thought you were sleep. You’re hurt. You need rest and...”

“What the fuck do you know about what I need?!” 

“I know!” Josiah found himself snapping back. “I know that you were raped!”

“Shut up!”

“I know that you are hurting! I know that you are trying to hurt me in return! Trying to make yourself feel better! But it won’t work!” Josiah stopped himself when he saw the boy shrink back. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long, tired sigh. “John,” he breathed, his voice soft again, “the first step in recorvering from anything is to accept that it has happened. To talk through it.”

JD glared at him. “There’s nothing to talk through.” he growled. “I got beat up! You all acting like I broke! Like I didn’t fight back hard enough! Like... like it was my fault!”

Josiah felt his chest tighten. “Oh, John, is that what you think? Nothing could be further from the truth! None of this was your fault. You saved Ezra! He’d have been dead that night if you hadn’t kicked!”

The boy dropped his eyes again. “Is... how’s Ez doing?” he wondered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The Preacher hesitated at the sudden change. The kid’s mood swings was making him dizzy. “Ezra? Beat to hell... but good. He’s already playing cards and cursing his inability to get down to the tavern just yet.” Josiah tilted his head. “He’s sleeping right now, but, if you want, we can go see him tomorrow. Relieve some of his boredom with a few hands of poker.” he suggested hopefully.

JD shrugged and winced. The bruises over his body were screaming their protest at standing for so long, but he just couldn’t stand sitting any longer. His back side hurt the worse of everything. He would lie down, but... he couldn’t.  
Just couldn’t!  
Laying down meant closing his eyes, and closing his eyes meant...  
Remembering...

“John...”

JD shook his head almost violently, his neck popping and burning in protest.

Josiah licked his lips. “John, you need to sleep. You’re exhausted. Please. We can do what ever you want tomorrow... if you get some sleep.”

He almost hated himself for going for coercion, but the kid looked like he was going to fall over. Not to mention all these hours in that corner, irritating his injuries. Josiah could guess why he gave up sitting on the floor. And the cut on his foot had left a bloody track on the floor. Every instinct told him to say the hell with it, step over, snatch the kid up, and tie him down in the damn bed.

He could do it too!

But he didn’t. Sure, they could re-wrap his foot, rub some allo-verra into his bruises and burns, add a little cream to the tears in his rectum.... The end result might be a healed body, but it would be a destroyed soul. There would be no getting their JD back after that.

So, coercion and trickery...

Josiah did his best to fake a yawn.

Sure enough, a moment later, JD yawned too. He shook his head angerly. “Stop it!” he snapped, though he seemed to be talking to himself more that Josiah. “I’m not weak!”

“No one said you were weak, John.” Josiah quickly answered. 

“Yes he did!” JD snapped back.

Josiah’s head came up a little, noting a change in the boy’s tone. “Who? Who called you weak, John?”

“Billy. When he...” his voice trailed off, his eyes squeezing close as if trying to shut out the memory.

The memory of the tongue sliding up his face, licking away tears.  
The pain in his back as he was practically folded in half so Billy could position himself just right to thrust.  
The laugh as he cried out, feeling himself tare, the warmth of blood and cum dripping down his back.  
“Bloody hell, weak as wee kit.” He leaned in, pushing further, hot, rancid breath burning JD’s eyes. “Purrrrrrr for me, ma weak, li’le kit.”  
He bit his lip, tasting blood...

“John...” Josiah’s voice broke through the memory, pulling him back to the here and now.

JD licked his lip, tasting blood. Gingerly, he touched his lip and looking down at the blood on his fingers. 

Josiah held out an handkerchief. 

JD looked at the offering. He looked up at the big man. Dragging his feet, he edged to the bed and reached out for the cloth. He hesitate from actually touching it, but, another look at Josiah... sitting calmly, making no move toward him except the offered handkerchief... he snatched the cloth and pressed it to his lip.

Josiah smiled slightly. “I’m not going to hurt you, John.” he assured for the umpteenth time, but, this time, he thought JD might actually hear him.

The kid looked at him over the handkerchief. He blinked, blinked again. 

Josiah put a hand over his mouth and faked another yawn. “It’s late.” he pointed out.

JD fought a yawn of his own, but, when Josiah stretched as far as he could with a tired groan, he couldn’t hold it back any more. He winced as his jaw creaked and his ears popped. 

He remembered the stinging back hand that had slammed around to fall into Danny’s arms.  
How Danny had decided that meant he must really want it...  
The flashes of light brought on by another blow.

JD shook his head as if he could shake the images right out. 

Josiah watched him as the emotions flashed through the boy’s eyes: anger, pain, fear, more anger... It was exhausting to watch. Josiah couldn’t imagine going through it. He wondered for a moment how he could even keep his eyes open. But, of course, he knew the answer: staying awake was easier than facing the nightmares.

Josiah sighed. “John, I’m not going to hurt you. And I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you.” he promised. “But you’re making that real difficult.”

JD blinked at him. “You want me to sleep.” he mumbled.

The Preacher smiled slightly. “Yea, I would like you to sleep. What would you like to do?”

JD looked down at the bed. Glanced back at his corner. Looked down at the bed again. Looked at Josiah.

Josiah shrugged. He stretched out again, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He gave one last yawn, one more hint.

JD yawned in response. He tried to glare at the Preacher, but he was too tired to hold it for long. He looked at the bed again. Everything hurt. Everything ached. Everything, everything, everything...

With a groan, he eased down on to the bed, laying on his side so he could watch Josiah. Bruises and burns and scrapes each made a protest, but it was nothing compared to standing, or, worse, sitting any longer. 

So, maybe, closing his eyes...

Josiah smiled again as he listened to the boy’s breathing even out.

Sleep.

Finally.

~~~~~

Flashes of light.  
Each one the shape of a boot or a fist.  
Lightening strikes from the sky, exploding against his body with mind shattering impact.  
His lungs imploded, his mouth filled with blood, his eyes burned...  
He was choking...  
Then came the screaming...  
The heart wrenching screams...  
Innocence being ripped away screams...

With a hiss, his eyes snapped open, his hands coming up to fend off the blows...

“Ezra!” Vin called from his bed roll a few feet away. “You alright?” 

Ezra blinked up at the dark ceiling. He attempted a deep breath before remembering his ribs were broken. It turned into a gasp. 

“Ez?” Vin called again.

“Calm down, Mr... Tanner.” Ezra managed. He wrapped one arm around his ribs and struggled into a sitting position. With a groan, he turned, letting his feet fall to the ground. His broken foot screamed in protest and, for a few struggled breaths, he regretted turning down the laudanum. 

“Ez?” came the ever persistent Vin. He sat on the bed beside the gambler. 

Ezra glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “If you... insist... on sleeping on my... floor, Mr. Tanner... I must insist that...”

“Ezra, maybe you should wait ‘til you got your breath back before you start chewing me out.” Vin suggested.

Ezra smirked. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. It was sticky with sweat. He hated being sticky with sweat. He hated being immobile. he hated being dependent on others. He hated every fucking thing about this whole damn, fucking event! And he hated the profanity need to properly express how he was feeling.

“Nightmares?” Vin asked softly.

The gambler closed his eyes. “I keep hearing his screams.” Ezra admitted.

“Yea.” his friend mumbled. “Me too.”

Ezra looked at the shadowy figure beside him. “Indeed?”

Vin huffed. “Indeed.” he mimicked Ezra’s voice. He dropped his head for a moment, before turning to look at him. Even in the dark of, his sharp eyes could make out the shine of Ezra’s eyes. “You alright?” he asked again.

Ezra focused on his breathing, taking careful breaths, being sure not to upset his ribs again. After a few, he told Vin “No... alas are any one of us?”

Vin actually chuckled. “You sound like ‘Siah.” he accused.

Ezra put on his best hurt expression, which wasn’t difficult considering his condition. “You wound me, Mr. Tanner.” He waited quietly for another round of chuckling to die down before he asked “How is our young Mr. Dunne?”

Vin’s amusement vanished. He shook his head. “I don’t know, Ez. They’re trying to get him to sleep without the laudanum, but... I don’t know. Here we are, up in the middle of the night with nightmares and we just heard the screams!”

“Thought you weren’t in favor of the laudanum.”

“I’m not! But...” Again Vin shook his head. But then he looked at Ezra. “Were you just dreaming about the screams?”

Ezra sighed. “There may have been some boot heals and badly dressed thugs in there.” he admitted.

Vin reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. 

Ezra rolled his head. “Bruises fade, broken bones heal, Mr. Tanner.” he assured. “Mind and spirit... now those may take a little more time.” Carefully, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, avoiding his still slightly swollen cheek. “Vincent, I’m tired. I’m going to have nightmares. You are going to have nightmares. But we will heal.” He smiled slightly. “If, indeed, you eventually remove yourself from my bed so that I might actually be able to return to my slumber.”

Vin huffed. Still, with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, Vin returned to his bedroll a few feet away. “You need anything, Ez, I’m right here.”

“And I do thank you for your attention, Mr. Tanner.” Ezra answered. “Alas, if attention was enough to heal all wounds, we’d have no fear for our young Mr. Dunne.”

~~~~~

“I don’t get it.” Swan grumbled. “Why we leavin’?”

Gray rode on. “Because, ya bloody prat, ya loss yer army.”

“We don’t need no army!” Swan protested, waving his hands in the air, making his horse shy away. “We got your grenades!”

“Ah have a limit number of grenades.” Gregory answered in a hiss. “Not enough to ball up these Seven men. We need an army. So, ya are off to recruit me a new army, meaner than any these law men. We will return to Four Corners and we will rip it anew. Leave Travis’ beloved township nothin’ but burning timbers an’ spilled blood.” He gave Swan a cold look. “Find me men that have no scruples. Fearless.”

“Yea... I can do that.... what’s scruples?”

The Brit sighed. “We have time. Ah will explain.”

“But... don’t ya wanna kill them? Kill that boy that did in your kin?” the outlaw insisted. “Don’t you wanna kill him good?”

“Not in the least.” When Swan just looked even more perplex, the Brit sighed. “My brothers were stupid, but they had learned one lesson and became masters in the practice of it.”

“Well, what lesson was that?” Swan pushed.

“That there are far worse you can do to a man than killin’ him.”

~~~~~~~~~~


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

~~~~~

Two months later...  
~~~

It was the sound of ripping cloth this time.

As soon as his back had hit the ground, the big Brit was on him, straddling his hips.  
He bucked against him, twisting, trying to throw him. Fists doubled up and he tried for a swing...  
But all he could hear was ripping cloth.  
The brother grabbed his hands and pinned them above his head.  
Big hands tangled in his shirt front and, with a twist and yank, ripped the front open.  
He yelled and cussed...   
But all he could hear was the ripping of cloth.  
The big Brit leaned over him, licking his chest, nipping at his nipples, biting deep at his shoulder.  
He cried out, threatened, promised all sorts of violent revenge.  
But all he could hear was ripping cloth.  
The licking and biting left a trail of wet, red welts, some seeping blood, down his chest, over his ribs, to the curve of his hips.  
He kicked, arching his back, trying to get an angle...  
But all he could hear was ripping cloth.  
A knife, a big, curved blade flash, his belt buckle went ricocheting of a bucket.  
Cold air hit his bare legs.  
They laughed at how pale he was...  
But all he could hear was the ripping of cloth.   
A rough hand wrapped around his cock, giving it a harsh tug.  
He cried out...  
But all he could hear was the ripping of cloth.  
Another harsh tug, then another...  
His eyes filled with tears, he squeezed them shut so the wouldn’t escape.  
Another tug, another tug, another....  
“Think he’s liking it, Danny-Boy! Look at him get all hard...”  
“Better give ‘im the Billy Club, Billy! Show ‘im how’s it gonna be!”  
But all he could hear was the ripping of cloth.  
He was thrown over on his stomach, choking suddenly on dusty, rotting hay.  
He braced his hands and tried to push himself up, but the brother slapped a hand on the back of his head, slamming him back to the ground.  
His world exploded in fireworks of white sparks...  
But all he could hear was the ripping of cloth.  
The big Brit shoved a finger in his hole so rough it brought a scream from the wiggling victim beneath him.  
But all he could hear was ripping cloth.  
Another finger...  
Another cry...  
Laughter...  
But all he could hear was ripping....

WAKE UP!

JD shot up right, throwing the blankets away from him as if they had been attacking him. He scrambled back against the head board, grabbing at the wall as if he might pull it down and use it as a shield. Gasping for breath, his eyes darted about, searching for his nightmares, searching for something to hit.

But, as usual, the room was empty. He was the only one there.

He and his torn bed sheets.

After one more glance about, JD gave a long tired sigh, and slid to the side of the bed. He dropped his face in his hands and groaned.

How long had it been now?   
Next to forever?  
Was he ever gonna sleep again?

Even Ezra was back on his feet. Admittedly limping and complaining about being made to “work,” which consisted of him playing cards in the Sheriff’s office a few hours a day verse in the tavern. 

JD had even started to take his turn at office duty and rounds. And why shouldn’t he? He was fit and healthy! Raring to go! Anyone looking at him would never know...

But they all knew! JD knew they all knew! Everyone! They could tell just by looking at him, by smelling him. He could still see their finger prints all over his skin, could still smell their stench no matter how hard he scrubbed. And he knew they all whispered about him! Rooms would go quiet when he walked in, folks crossed the street when he went on rounds. It’s why he didn’t go to the tavern or restaurant or stores any more. “There goes the boy whore.” they’d all whisper. He couldn’t hear them, but he knew!

But what he would give for one night’s sleep! He could take all the stares and whispers and knowing if he could just sleep!

JD looked down at the bits of torn sheets still clutched in his hands. “Wonderful. ‘Siah’s gonna wanna talk about this now.”

Josiah had finally backed off, giving up getting him to say what had happened in that barn. Even let him move back into his old room over the tavern. He wasn’t following him around like a big, worried puppy any more, though there was always one of the guys close at hand. He still had a babysitter. Just wasn’t always the nosy Josiah telling him what he needed and how safe he was.

But torn sheets? That was the sort of thing that got him cornered, sat down, and told “You shouldn’t hold it in. Let it out. Wanna cry like a weak, li’le kit?”

JD shook his head as his mind’s voice took on that sickening cockney accent.

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked down at the torn cloth again. Well, what Josiah doesn’t know...

Balling up the shreds, he tucked it under the bed and threw the blankets up and over, hiding the mess underneath. He was actually kinda proud of his sneaky skills. He thought he was getting quite good at hiding things from Josiah. He hid a lot of things from Josiah and the others.

No one knew he wasn’t sleeping much.  
No one knew everything he ate tasted like rotting hay so he had all but stopped eating.  
No one knew he was buying a bath once, even twice a day, every day, gutting his savings.  
No one knew that he had a deep cut down one arm from where he had woken up from a dream swinging the knife he had kept under his pillow.  
No one knew that when they asked how he was doing every day he would lie right to their faces and tell them he was doing just fine.  
No one knew that he climbed into bed fully clothed just in case.  
No one knew how he had become an expert twister and bender just to avoid the everyday, friendly taps and touches from folks meaning nothing more than friendly taps and touches.  
No one knew he had just shoved torn sheets under his bed.  
No one knew...  
Not a single one knew...

Taking a shaky breath, JD rose to his feet and looked around for fresh clothes to start the day in.

Another day that no one would know him.

~~~~~

As usual, Buck was waiting for him down stairs, breakfast in hand: an apple muffin this morning. When he saw JD coming, he gave the muffin a good sniff. “Mmmmm, last of the Widow Campbell’s apples for the season.”

JD huffed at him. “Widow Campbell dries apples for the winter so she never runs out.” he pointed out as he started to walk pass without even a glance at the offered muffin.

But Buck stretched his arm out in his path, the muffin right under his nose. “Okay... doesn’t make it any less warm and delicious.” was his counter point.

Knowing he wasn’t getting anywhere until Buck saw him take a bite, JD snatched the muffin and took a bite.   
Yup, fresh apple, warm, moist, pinch of sugar...  
Tasted every bit like rotting hay.

Forcing a smile, he looked up at Buck. “Mmmmm.” he mimicked. That done, he pushed Buck’s arm out of the way and continued on.

Buck watched him pass for a moment, all amusement gone. He ground his teeth, glancing across the street to where Chris and Josiah were leaning on a hitching post. He gave them a shrug, before hurrying after their kid.

“And everyday life continues.” Chris observed.

Josiah stared at him. “You call that everyday?” he growled. “Chris, weight is falling off him like snow in July!”

Chris threw up his hands. “What do you want me to do, ‘Siah? I can’t very well hog tie him and force feed him apple crumb and beef steak!” 

Josiah got that desperate look in his eyes.

Chris ground his teeth. “No! No fuckin’ way in goddamn hell is anyone, ANYONE, gonna force that kid to do anything he doesn’t want to do! ‘sides you really think that’d help him one damn bit?”

Josiah deflated. “No.” he agreed with a sigh. “God, no.” He shook his head. When Chris turned and started back for the office, Josiah walked at his side. After a few steps, he admitted “I don’t know what to do. We never got this far with Izzy. She’s trapped in that moments after panic.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? We got him out of that... moments after... we got him moving forward.” Chris encouraged.

But Josiah shook his head again. “He’s not moving forward. He’s pretending that...” he waved a hand in the air, “that everyday life continues. That nothing has changed, that nothing has happened to him.” He looked at Chris. “Not once has he even said the word rape. That isn’t dealing with it, Chris. And you, of all people, should know what happens when you don’t deal with pain in your life.”

Chris stiffened. There was a hard, black pit in his gut where he had shoved his pain. 

Sarah... his son...

It was a pain that, left to run wild, had nearly taken his life! Would have if it hadn’t been for Buck doubling up his fist and knocking him on his ass. 

Okay, the first dozen times or so he had thrown a few punches right back. It had been a living hell. He hated himself, he hated life, hated the sun, the earth, the very air he breathed. Oh, he kept telling Buck that he was fine, that everything was the way it should be, it was meant to be. Yet, he was always on the hunt for a fight, hoping, praying even, that the next one just might be good enough to kill him.

But Buck, in his constant, annoying, pestering way, broke through the darkness, reminding him that he could still care, that there was something... someones.... worth caring for!

Chris paused and glanced across the street to where JD was twisting to the side, ducking Mary’s loving greeting in the form of a hand on the arm. If the kid was going through an ounce of the pain he had gone through... 

Chris wondered if it would be frowned upon if he went back, dug up the Gray brothers, and shot them again.

Blowing air out through clenched teeth, Chris stomped into the Sheriff’s office. He greeted Vin with a grunt and a nod of the head. “Okay. We have a problem.” he growled at Josiah when he had poured himself a mug of black coffee. “What do we do about it?” Throwing him a glare, he added “That doesn’t involve rope and prying his jaws open!”

Josiah shrugged. “I don’t know.” His admittance almost sounded more like a groan of pain than actual words. 

Vin rose up from the desk where he had spent the night cleaning guns and stretched his back. “Sounds like a JD conversation.” he observed.

Chris considered glaring at him, but decided he hadn’t had enough coffee too have this big of a problem to face alone. So... he turned to Vin. “You have something to add?” he wanted to know. His tone might have been grouchy, but Vin had a good ear and better eyes. He knew when the boss was challenging and when he really wanted input.

“You met Arshad? Fella who took over the bath house?” Vin started, moving around the desk so he could sit on the corner.

Chris nodded, thinking about the Persian who had moved to Four Corners little less than a year back. He took over the bath and barber house and had really fancied it up. Oh, still offered everything a cowboy dusty from the trail could want, but made it a place even high and might Ezra Standish was comfortable visiting.

“He’s a good man.” Josiah offered. “Been good to for the town. Generous and kind... and not shy with the gun when his neighbors are in need.” He remembered the attempted bank job only some six months back, when the town folk turned out to back up the Seven.

“Yea, well, he came by last night. Thought we should know.” Vin hesitated.

Which earned him a growled “About?” from Chris.

“JD’s been taking a lot of baths.” Vin shrugged. “Hygiene not being a crime... in fact, encouraged... and it seemed kinda a personal thing, so I couldn’t figure what he was getting at. Then he goes and says he’s ran a lot of baths in a lot of places in the world. He seen it before... when a fella scrubs himself so hard he turns his bath water pink... like he’s tryin’ to scrub himself outta existence.”

Chris’ eyes widen. “He’s hurting himself?”

Again Vin shrugged. “That’s what I asked, but he said it wasn’t like that... exactly.” He paused to scratch his chin and think his words out carefully. He wasn’t a man who did a lot of talking. It took having something that needed to be said to get him to talk this much. He wanted to make sure he got it right. “Arshad said it’s like he feels wrong... dirty. He doesn’t want anyone to see, to know he’s dirty, so he’s tryin’ his damnest to hide it until he can wash it away. But, since it’s a stain on his soul, his heart... Arshad’s words.... he can’t get clean. So he scrubs harder. And he’ll just keep on scrubbin’ ‘til he feels clean again.”

The three men were silent a moment, each with an image in their heads of a tiny, frighten, child like JD trying to scrub away the crime done to him. And each followed up the image with another of taking a ride out to a couple of graves to make a deposit of a couple more bullets.

Finally Chris gave a frustrated snarl. “So, what do we do about it? Did he have any enlightenment there?”

Vin shrugged. “He just thought we should know.”

“Lot of fat help knowing does when you can’t do anything about it.” Chris complained. “We stuck with force feeding and outlawing baths?” He took a moment to sip at his coffee and think. Damn, he was so much more comfortable with problems he could shoot.

Oh, we’ll just add that to the list: force feeding; outlaw baths; shooting him...

“’Siah, go have a chat with Arshad.” he said when he had done some thinking. “If he’s seen this before, maybe he has some experience responding to it. Meantime, Vin, your grandmother ever sat you down at the dinner table and not let you up ‘til your plate was clean?”

Vin chuckled. “Standin’ over me with a wooden spoon.”

“Well, maybe we should try some old fashion grandmothering the kid.” was Chris’ conclusion. “Snatch Buck and Mary and lets have a dinner. Been awhile since we all had a good sit down and eats.”

Both Josiah and Vin looked at each other. Usually such “family dinners,” as Mary called them, had been Josiah’s province. And, usually, it was Chris who had to be dragged, kicking and snarling, to the dinner table. The fact that Chris was actually suggesting it now...

Well, they really were down to desperate measures!

~~~~~

Dinner was laid out with all the finery.

Well, as much finery as a dusty, wild west town could muster.

Mary had thrown a table cloth over her printer’s table and Vin had delivered a hefty duck for Ezra to tell everyone how to properly cook. Mary and Vin busied themselves in the kitchen, doing their best to ignore Ezra who was, he claimed, busy managing the cooks. Truth was Ezra was a very fine cook, but he simply preferred to critique work rather than actually do it. Of course, Ezra did supply the fine wine. Chris supplied a bottle of fine whiskey. Nathan had had the good fortune to help one of the local farmers through a bad bout of gout, which he was paid with in green beans and squash. Josiah had managed to round up a loaf of fresh bread and some sweet butter. And Buck, after another visit with the Widow Campbell, had arrived with a fresh, hot apple crisp.

JD protested when he was pushed through the door by Buck that he didn’t feel right joining in since no one told him they were getting together, so he hadn’t brought anything.

But Mary quickly called him to his seat, insisting that his presence was contribution enough. Of course, if he really wanted to add something, he could do dishes when they were all done.

That earned him a round of cheers and jeers from his brothers in arms who just found out they weren’t going to be stuck with the clean up.

Dinner was a boisterous occasion for Mary and the Seven. She and Chris took the foot and head of the table and the boys scattered out in between. In day to day life, the Seven knew they had each others’ backs, that there was always a brother close at hand. A brother to share a joke with or stand over a grave, hat in hand, with. One that would nail another in the back with a snow ball, but go all out after anyone else who dared the same trick. Someone who knew their fears and would never use that knowledge against them. Who had seen their scars, their personal darkness, and chose to still stand at their side. In day to day life, there was no denying the brotherhood between the Seven men.

But it was dinners like this when they truly felt like a family.

Except, this time, for JD.

Sitting between Buck and Vin, JD did his very best to sink back in his chair, to disappear from sight. He felt tricked, trapped with a plate of food sitting in front of him barely touched while the others were using bread to slop of the last drippings of their own servings. He had done his best to play along with the entertainment, offering an old joke heard a million times before, forcing a laugh at something everyone else had laughed at though he hadn’t really been paying attention. Every clank of silverware or dishes sent his quick eyes dashing this way and that. Every accidental touch, which, considering how small the table actually was, were quite a few, made him flinch despite his desperate fight not to. Quite frankly, all the noise and ruckus was putting every last nerve he had on edge. JD knew they were all watching him, waiting for him to snap or start bawling or shooting or burst into flames or something. All he really wanted to do was escape back to his room where he could fail at sleeping peacefully in solitude.

The other six men had been joking about Mr. Robinson, owner of the general store, and his candy thief, which everyone knew was his son, but he had made an impressive list of suspects, including Judge Travis. 

Mary laughed at that, wanting to know “How did he reason that?”

Josiah shrugged. “Apparently he’s above suspicion.”

Buck’s jaw dropped. “Being above suspicion is what makes him suspicious?”

And everyone laughed. Even JD managed to force a chuckle.

He nibbled here and there, making the appropriate “mmm” sounds, but, mostly, he had just pushed the food around so it looked like he had eaten. He didn’t even touch the liqueur on the table.

It wasn’t until the others had finished and leaned back in their chairs, sipping wine and whiskey, did JD think he would finally get to escape. Belts were loosened, and laughter had turned into quiet anecdotes and soft chuckles. This was usually the time someone opted to head for bed for an early rise and another headed off to do rounds. When no one made a move to go, JD decided to lead the way.

“Well,” he started with a big, exaggerated sigh, “guess it’s time to pay my dues. Off to the dishes I go.”

“Oh, nonsense, JD.” Mary chided. “You barely touched your dinner. Dishes can wait ‘til the morning. Finish your meal.”

JD flashed her his very best smile, but it trembled just enough to let everyone know it was forced. 

Suddenly they all were really watching him.

“Thanks, Mary, but... yea, I’m pretty tired.” JD pushed his chair back, feeling a sudden urge to run for the door. A window would do in a pinch, but he would prefer the door.

Especially when Vin’s hand snapped out, catching the back of his chair and holding it in place. “Couple more bites won’t hurt none. Make us feel like you appreciated all the fuss it took... listenin’ to Ez wine all day ‘bout doin’ it this way an’ that way...”

“Mr. Tanner, you wound me!” Ezra accused.

The table chuckled, but it was tense and not really felt.

JD turned his painted on smile on Vin. “I...” he started, but stopped. 

Vin was looking at him, really looking at him, like he looks at tracks in the dirt, little scratches worn into a path, nothing really, but, somehow, he always knew what they met.   
Like he could see the little scratches worn into his skin, the tracks left by fingers long gone, the scars, the burns, the violations, the filth...

And, suddenly, JD knew it didn’t matter what lie he came up with; Vin was going to look right through it and see him.

See everything!

And, suddenly, JD was very angry.

Who the fuck did they think they were?  
They lured him here, trapped him, tried to make him do what they wanted...  
What? Were they going to force him? Hog tie him and shovel apple crisp down his throat?  
And what came after that?  
Were they all gonna take a turn at him next?

His shaking hands balled up into shaking fists.

“JD.” came Chris’ voice, an icy cold chime that force the entire table.

Instantly, the boy’s hands flattened out on the table. He turned and looked to the leader of the Seven.

Sharp blue eyes sought his out, but JD kept his eyes down just enough to avoid his. Giving that up, Chris spoke, using his best stern father tone “I won’t play this as a game, JD. You need to eat. And we will not be leaving this table until you have.”

Silence.

None of the others had expected to be taking such a direct approach to the problem. They glanced at each other, wondering if they should just back up and let Chris wale away at the kid. 

JD simply stared at a spot on the table with nothing whatsoever to see on it.

It was Mary who broke the silence with her big sister concern. “JD, we’re worried about you. If you don’t start eating and sleeping, you’re gonna become ill. All the progress you’ve made in the last couple of months will mean nothing if we lose you to something as simple as not eating.”

“Progress?” JD snorted, his head tilting, though his eyes never left that spot of nothing. “Progress?!” he repeated, this time in a snarl.

Mary’s eyes went wide with alarm as she glanced quickly to Chris.

Chris was slowly rising to his feet.

“Progress...” JD said one more time, finally turning his head to glare at the woman, “can take a number when it comes to fuckin’ me in the ass!”

“JD!” Buck warned, coming to his own feet. He couldn’t help but be a little bit afraid of this creature that was suddenly sitting beside him. 

JD slammed his chair back against Vin’s foot, exacting a startled yelp from the tracker when one leg stomped down on the toe of his boot. Freed, JD leaped to his own feet and spun around to face Buck. “Back off, Buck!” he snapped. “You all are so concerned for me? Where were you when I needed you? Where were you when they dragged me into that fuckin’ barn and...” He stopped yelling, snapping his jaw shut, dropping his eyes, searching for that nothing spot.

Buck stared at him with the biggest eyes Chris had ever seen his best friend wear. “Kid...” he tried, feeling as helpless as he had that day hanging from a pole, watching their baby brother get dragged away, listening to his screams through out the night.

“Vin, wait...” Josiah started, but was too late.

“JD, we’re just trying to help...” Vin was saying, laying a hand on JD’s shoulder from behind.

JD spun about, his fist striking out, catching Vin on the lower lip and sending him stumbling back to the floor. “Don’t touch me!” JD practically screamed at him.

“That is enough!” Chris snapped, pushing Buck back so there was no one between him and JD. If the kid was set on violence, then hell has no fury like a big brother trying to save one of his own from himself. 

But the fight had already fled from JD, drained with only a single punch. He stood, arms hanging limply at his sides, staring down at Vin with his bloody lip and dazed expression.

Nathan was beside Vin in an instant, looking his friend over while keeping a wary eye on JD.

JD took a gasping breath and choked out “Vin... sorry...”

Vin shook his head. “Nothin’, kid. Shouldn’t o’ touched you.” he assured, taking a handkerchief from Mary to gingerly dab at his split lip.

Shame and loathing boiled in JD’s gut, until he spun away. He was suddenly caught by Chris’ eyes, boring straight into him, right pass all the lies and painted on smiles, all the pretending that he was alright, that nothing was wrong, that it had just been a beating...

He couldn’t bare it any more. Wrapping his arms around himself, JD gasped “Chris... please...” It was almost a sob.

The strength and determination fell from Chris’ expression. His heart broke at JD’s sob. He didn’t have it in him to force the kid, to put him through any more. With a defeated sigh, Chris stepped aside.

With the path clear, JD bolted, out the door before anyone else could move.

“Wait!” Josiah cried, taking a step after. 

“Mr. Sanchez...” Ezra started, stepping in his way.

“Let him go.” Chris ordered his men.

“We had a plan, Chris!” Buck protested.

“It was not working.” Ezra explained. “Or would you care to ask Mr. Tanner how he thinks it was going?”

“Ah’m ‘ine!” Vin grumbled around the cloth and fat lip. 

Josiah and Buck both turned glares on Chris.

The man held up a hand. “No matter what else we heard from that barn... did you ever hear him beg? Once?” he asked them, looking first at one then the other. He shook his head. “JD just begged me to let him go. What does it mean when a fuckin’ rapist can’t make him beg... but, apparently, I can?” Chris ran a hand through his hair. After a moment, he told them “The Judge is due back tomorrow. He offered to help...”

“To send him away?” Buck demanded.

“Maybe not.” Mary was quick to defend her father-in-law. “There are other resources. But,” she hesitated before suggesting “if we can’t help him here, if sending him somewhere that can help him...”

“We’ll talk to Judge Travis tomorrow.” Chris cut her off. He snatched his jacket from the back of his chair. “I’ll take rounds tonight.” he told them. “Rest of you get some sleep.” Then he was stomping out the door.

He didn’t really follow JD. He just ended up outside his door. 

It sounded as if a rampaging bull was loose in the room, the sound of smashing furniture and thrown this and thats crashing into walls echoed down the stairs.

Inez was already there, yet someone else giving him a wide eyed look. “He walked right in, slammed the door... I think he’s smashing everything he owns... and a few things I own...”

“I’ll pay for the damage.” Chris assured her.

“That wasn’t my concern.” she told him. Bobbing her head toward the door, she asked “Is he alright?”

Chris shook his head. He flinched as something was thrown against the inside of the door, obviously shattering. With a tired sigh, Chris leaned back against the door frame, tugging his hat down over his eyes.

Inez waited for him to say anything else, but, when he didn’t, she frowned, then turned and made her way back down the stairs, returning to her tavern. She’d bring him a bottle a little later, knowing he was settling in for a long night.

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely sure how I feel about this chapter.  
> But it got me to where I wanted to be.  
> Maybe I'll mess with it later.  
> Maybe I'll decided it's just exactly what it should be.  
> I don't know.  
> What do you all think?


	5. Chapter Five

~~~~~~~~~~  
Chapter Five  
~~~~

Swan wasn’t a big man. He didn’t have that towering highth that made men look from a mile away. He didn’t have the thick, broad shoulders that made rocks crumble before he even picked up the hammer. He didn’t have the trunk like legs that made would make an oak tree jealous.

No, what made Swan an intimidating man was pure savagery. 

He crouched down at the head of the Army officer that hung by his ankles over white hot coals and poked the black, burnt skin with one finger. Not even a whimper. “Well, ain’t you ready for dinner now, huh?” he mused to himself. 

The captive might have been a captain, maybe even a Colonel, but his shoulder emblem had long ago been claimed by one of his assailants, and his screams hadn’t revealed much.

Not that anyone asked much.

Swan hadn’t slow cooked the man alive for information. He hadn’t done it to free the five criminally insane army mad dogs the Captain/Colonel and his men had been escorting to Fort Leavenworth for trial and hanging. He had done it for no other reason than.... well, why not? Wasn’t like there had been any whole hearted protest... well, other than from the Captain/Colonel. Even his own men had been... otherwise occupied to have protested.

Hell, the Comanche renegades they had picked up three weeks had some pretty good advise on how he could make it last good and long.

Oh, one of the mad dogs had snapped at his fingers, insiting it was his right to see the Captain/Colonel done for. He now laid flayed wide open, tacked to the ground like so many gutted fish set to dry in the sun. 

With that one Swan was happy to teach a few techniques to the Comanche.

It served its purpose, Swan thought as he looked over the rest of the dogs, now, firmly and without a doubt, his pack, his gang, his army! Took the flaying of only one man to convince the other army rejects that Swan was Boss here. It had taken nearly two months, hunting the most notorious savages in the Midwest, bulling them into service, weeding out those with weak stomachs or the slightest hint of morals.  
Hesitated to take your turn gang raping someone’s grandmother or a nibble of human flesh, and you just might find yourself raped and nibbled on.

He had had his army two weeks ago, topping out at twenty-five men. They had been cutting a bloody path across the territories since, leaving behind broken bodies, shattered spirits, and a growing reputation even bloodier and more savage than the reality of it. Funny how the lack of survivors, at least any survivors with any sense left in their busted up bodies, could tell tall tales even so. Swan had rode into a little nothing town only a couple of days back to hear how a roaming pack of ravaging werewolves were ripping through the lands. 

Werewolves! 

The little town had just enough imagination, they left it unmolested. Swan and his men raided and burned everything outside of the town’s limits. But they didn’t touch the town itself. Let them live and spread the rumors.

Werewolves!

Stumbling upon the prisoner transfer had just been a bit of fun with an unexpected prize. Hell, the army had been so afraid of one of these boys he was actually wearing a muzzle.

For that matter, a muzzle he had yet to remove despite the guards all being dead and his shackles long gone. Now that Swan saw that, he considered he might have to kill that one too. 

So, now his army numbered twenty-nine. 

Swan poked the Captain/Colonel again, watching the body swing, little bits of burnt flesh flaking off like black snow.

“Boss!” came a call. “Rider... it’d be the Englishman!”

Those who had been with him for more than a few days quickly scattered out of the way. Though Gregory Gray was more often gone than there, he had made enough of an impression that even the most savage of them avoided eye contact. Where Swan was Boss with a violent temper and unquenchable blood thirst, Gray was completely unemotional, unattached, inhuman. He spoke only to Swan, and then, nearly always, only to give instructions and orders. Once, within the first couple of weeks, one of the new recruits decided to challenge Gray. The Brit ignored the man and simply walked by. With dawn, the camp was awoken by muffled screams and found the challenger tied to the tail of a roaming bull, his mouth sewn shut around an iron ball with a lit fuse dangling only a few inches from his lips. swan had had just enough time to yell for his men to get back before the grenade went off, exploding the man’s head all over the bull and sending the poor animal stampeding across the prairie, the body bouncing behind him. It had been the first and the last time anyone dared to challenge the Brit.

Swan might have been the Boss, but Gray was Lucifer himself!

The tall man rode through the camp, ignoring the growl the muzzled mad dog gave before one of the old hands yanked him back with whispered warnings. “Mister Swan.” he spoke as he stopped his mount beside the roasting Captain/Colonel. “Ya’ve targeted the United States Army?” he inquired.

The Boss hesitated. There was nothing in the other man’s tone to hint at approval or disapproval. Left a man wondering how he’d greet the sun the next day.

Gray shrugged. “’ey be a good score. Weapons to arm ye men an’ enough pinch to ‘e government ‘at ‘ey start itchin’ Judge Travis to be done wit’ ya.”

Ah, approval... as far as these thing went when it came to Gray. But, Swan would take what he could get when he could get it. “My thoughts exactly.” he lied. 

The Brit huffed. “Indeed.” Then he looked around at the men. “Get ‘em on ‘e move.”

Swan grinned with anticipation. “We finally goin’ in?” The laorst week they had stayed just outside the fringes of the Seven’s usual stomping grounds, waiting f Gray to tell them when it was time. There had been more than enough prey to keep the boys entertained, but Swan didn’t like leaving things undone.

And those Seven men was most definitely something left undone.

Gregory Gray nodded once. “Ah’ll take two men wi’ me. Flagoon an’...” He glanced around, his eye settling on the muzzled mad dog who was dry humping a tree. “An’ ‘at one.”

~~~~~

He stared at the broken piece of mirror that leaned against the broken bed frame at a tipsy angle, like, with the slightest breeze, it could finish falling to the floor, shattering what was left of the image reflected in its surface.

That image....  
A broken boy...  
Shattered really...  
Lying on the floor...  
Reeking of rancid breath and clammy hands and warm blood and salty tears and sticky cum...

JD kicked, sending a broken chunk of something or other skidding across the floor and knocking over the mirror.

It didn’t help though.

He still saw it.

That image...  
Curled up on himself...  
Clothes torn away because he couldn’t stand the feel of anything touching his skin any longer...  
Knuckles bloody from pounding the walls, the floor, the dresser, anything that would make them hurt and bleed...  
Burn scars and teeth marks, long faded, but, in his eye, glowed red hot....  
Finger prints as fresh as the day they were made, grabbing at his arms, crawling up his thighs, pulling at his hair, spreading his ass...

He slapped himself in the face as if he could smack the image right out of his head. But it wouldn’t fade. It hadn’t faded all night. It never had faded. Just hid from time to time behind a facade of normalcy, behind a brave front, behind lies.

But that image...

Sure, changed here and there, bit by bit.  
The wood slivers dug deep across his belly from where he had been bent over a sawhorse and rammed hard until he screamed....  
Billy Club dragging him up on his lap, impaling him on his Club at just the right angle that Danny-Boy could crawl up between his legs and suck on his victim’s cock, biting it, making him bleed and cum at the same time...  
His pride open jaw, with a chunk of wood jammed between his molars so he couldn’t bite them while they fucked his mouth, laughing when he gagged, drowning when they filled him with their spent loads...

JD balled his fists and pressed them into his eyes, trying to rub the image away. “Please,” he pleaded, shamed that two months later, they had finally forced him to beg, “please, stop... stop... stop, stop, stopstopstopstop...” He choked on a sob, curling in on himself even tighter in his agony.

Then there was a knock.

His whole world, this one smashed apart room, stopped.

“JD?” came a voice through the door. Buck!

The boy sat up, pressing his back to the wall, pulling his knees to his chest. With narrowed eyes, he watched the door, waiting for the intrusion, silently preparing for his attack.

Buck knocked again. “Um, yea, JD, know you’re in there. Look... Judge Travis got in a couple hours ago. He’s got some information about... well, about those guys... wants us down at the office... If you feel up to it... if you want...” 

JD frowned at the door.

What he wanted was for everything to just stop!

But that image...

And his gut was twisting and his head was on fire and everything buzzed. 

And, maybe hunting down Swan and gang was exactly what he needed! Even what he wanted! What better way was there for everything to end than a swift exchange of bullets?

~~~~~

“I don’t like this.” Josiah was mumbling.

Judge Travis glanced at the big man. “I assure you, Josiah, no one is liking this.” He shook his head. “Least of all me. But if anyone knows anything more about these Grays, it will be JD. He’s the only one who spent time with...”

“Spent time?” Josiah snapped. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“’Siah...” Chris warned, but Orrin Travis waved him down. 

The man looked older than when he had last been in town only a month earlier. He had been following reports of Swan and his mystery man across three territories, until it became obvious that the sizable gang was heading back to his own town. He had followed Swan mostly, because the other man was nearly invisible. He was tired. Road tired, age tired, but, most of all, tired of seeing torn and mangled bodies, a trail of blood and misery that these bastards left where ever they went.

Travis ran a hand over his face and leaned back in the chair behind the desk, his customary place when in town. “Josiah, he needs to face what has happened to him. Perhaps, by looking at as helping the investigation rather than trying to fix him, maybe he might actually start talking then.” he suggested.

Josiah sighed, crossed his arms over his chest and sat on the corner of the other desk. He still didn’t like it, but, after the night before...

Chris shrugged, shaking his head. “What’s left for us to do, ‘Saih? You said it yourself: we have to do something!” 

“He’s coming.” Vin called softly from where he was stretched out in a chair out on the boardwalk next to the door. He tugged his hat over his eyes again, and continued ‘napping.’

“Josiah, please take Buck on rounds with you.” the Judge ordered. When Josiah looked to protest, he pointed out “Whatever the results, he’s not going to want an audience.”

Again a sigh, but the big man relented and stepped out the door. “Buck, join me on rounds?” they heard him call. 

“Orrin...” Chris started, feeling not at all confident in what they were about to put his kid through.

“Chris.” was Travis response, ending it there. They had set out on a path and they would stick to it.

When JD stepped through the door, Travis couldn’t help but be a little taken back. The poor boy was a shadow of his former self. He was pale, too thin, eyes streaked with red, bruised knuckled with fresh cuts, lips thin and chewed on, smile a miserably imitation of a real one.

“Hey, Judge,” JD almost squeaked. He paused to throw Chris a glance from the corner of his eye. “Heard you got news...?” He stopped at the door as if he was expecting a trap once he was actually in the office. After all, it was only a few short yards to the cells.

“Some, not a whole lot.” Travis admitted. He waved to the chair in front of his desk. “That’s what I was hoping to talk to you about.” Again he indicated the chair. When JD made no move, he made the offer more clearly: “Come in and have a seat, JD.”

JD glanced at Chris again.

“This is between you and myself, JD.” the Judge assured. “If you like, Chris can find something else to do.”

Chris looked sharply at the Judge, a retort snapped back behind clenched teeth.

But JD seemed to be put at ease by the offer. Somewhat. He stepped in, dragged the chair back a bit, away from Chris, and took a seat where he could keep one eye on Chris and one out the window. “You want us to go track them down again?” he asked Travis hopefully, adjusting his gun belt as if making the point that he was ready to go.

“No... not yet. I need some information from you.” 

JD ripped his eyes from Chris to frown at the Judge. “From me? Like what?”

Travis folded his hands together on the desk and looked straight on to his young gunman. “We need to know about this mystery man, the one whose supplying the grenades. All we know about him was from Mary’s description and the fact that he had taken the time to bury the Gray brothers. There’s a chance that while they... had you, you might have overheard Danny and Billy talk about this other man.”

JD swallowed hard enough to make his throat hurt. “They, uh... they weren’t very talkative... sir.” He could suddenly feel his heart pounding so hard he thought his ribs would snap. “Chris, the others, they all saw them...”

“But we weren’t with them, alone, for hours.” Chris pointed out. 

JD’s breath caught and he dropped his eyes, searching for another way. “I... I don’t remember...”

“Well, maybe if we go over everything, we might find a word or something slipped out.” Travis hadn’t thought JD could get even paler, but he had been wrong. Still, he pushed forward. “It’s really all we have, JD. Anything could help.”

Anything...  
Like how fingers dug into his shoulders?  
How droll dripped on the back of his neck as they grunted against his back, thrusting, ripping through him?  
Their laughter?

“Start at the beginning.” Travis encouraged. “They took you into the barn...”

JD looked away, staring out the window.   
He didn’t want to do this.  
He didn’t want to remember.  
But, if he wanted it to all end...  
To all be done with...  
He had to do this, he had to remember.

“What happened when the door closed?” Travis asked.

“I... I fought back....” JD mumbled. “Billy... he hit me, and my head...” Absently, a hand reached up and rubbed his forehead where he had had a goose egg for a week after the rape. “He called me week... week as a wee kit...”

Travis through a glare at Chris, stopping him from reacting to the sudden cockney accent JD had mimic. 

JD stared at the window, seemingly loss in the memory. “It got all fuzzy then. I... I don’t know how he got me on the floor... Danny-Boy was on my head... my shoulders....” He rubbed his shoulder. It had popped when he tried to fight out from under him.

“Where was Billy?” the Judge prompted.

“On my legs... he used a knife to cut my... my clothes...” He stopped. His hands were shaking.

“Were they talking to each other? Telling the other what to do?”

JD’s eyes narrowed. “He said... he said I liked it...” his voice drifted off.

Again Travis glanced at Chris.

The leader of the Seven stood as stiff as an oak, his jaw set, his eyes narrowed as if he glaring someone to death.

Suddenly JD stood up and walked out the door.

Chris snapped out of his glaring. “JD...?”

Travis also stood up. “Where is he going?” he wondered.

“I don’t know.” Chris grumbled. He snatched his hat up and quickly followed.

Vin was rising his feet as he came out. With a nod, he indicated the direction their kid went and fell in step behind Chris.

JD walked directly across the street to the General Store. Without a word he walked passed Mr. Robinson, into the store, crossed to where Ken Robinson was pouring potatoes into a barrel. Without a word, he grabbed him by the shoulder, slammed him back against the counter, and pressed his gun to his head.

“Hey!” Mr. Robinson yelled, rushing in after. “That’s my son!”

JD leaned over his prisoner. “Why don’t you tell your father whose been stealing all the candy?” he suggested, his voice cold, unwavering, like the gun in his hand.

“Wh... what?” the young man stuttered. 

“What are you talking about? Ken would never steal from me!” the father yelled.

Chris and Vin stepped into the store, both with guns drawn. They had come ready as soon as they saw JD draw his own weapon. Vin instantly bounced around the shelving, taking cover while he sought out the danger. But Chris came straight into the store, coming to stand beside the distraught father. A quick glance told him that there was no danger... except, maybe, for JD himself. 

Now JD was behaving very dangerously, a gun pressed to the head of a boy... young man really, he was about the same age as JD. Truth was, Ken was bigger and stronger than JD. But he had been protected his whole life by his father and seemed stuck in that damn-it-all teenage mentality. Something JD outgrew with a rough few years making a living with a gun in his hand. Ken couldn’t possibly understand how to kill, where JD knew all too well.

“Please, god, my son, my Kenny...” babbled Mr. Robinson, snatching at Chris’ sleeve.

Chris yanked his arm free. “JD!” he snapped. “What the hell are you doing?!” He had to talk the kid down and quick, before father or son did something stupid or JD actually shoots the sniveling little thief. His gun suddenly felt very heavy in his hand.

“I am doing my job: catching thieves.” JD explained in a tone that Chris hadn’t heard since that day two months ago when JD walked up to Buck and asked for a gun.

And Chris could never forget what JD did that day! What he was capable of, maybe, even today. 

“Kenny’s not a thief!” wailed Robinson, again grabbing at Chris. “Do something! Save my boy! You men are supposed to protect us! Why aren’t you doing something?!”

Before Chris could respond, Vin stepped in, jerking the store owner back and away from his leader. “We got this, pard.” he assured the father in quiet tones, while, not so gently pushing him back towards the door.

JD leaned pulled back the hammer of his weapon. “Tell your father who’s been stealing his candy.” he ordered again in that I-don’t-care tone.

Chris felt his gut twist with the realization that he didn’t have a choice. JD was really going to make him do this! He was really going to make him...

He raised his own weapon, taking a bead on the kid. “JD, put the goddamn gun down!” he growled. 

For the briefest of moments he saw JD’s eyes flicker toward him, before dropping once more to his own target. For the briefest moments, Chris was sure he had seen relief in those hard hazel eyes. Relief that Chris was pointing his gun at him!

Oh, God, oh, god, oh, god, ohgodohgodohgod.....

He changed tactics. “JD,” he called to him, his tone softer, calmer, “think about this, what you’re doing... does this make any sense? Is candy really worth his life?”

“I don’t know.” came JD’s answer, though his tone hadn’t changed in the least. “Is it, Kenny? Are you going to confess your crimes? Your evil? Your sick, fuckin’ perversions, taking what isn’t yours?!” He leaned on the gun, the cold metal splitting the skin on Ken’s forehead.

The candy thief was in tears now, sobbing incoherently. He could have been confessing to everything under the sun, but no one would ever be able to decipher the babbling.

Chris couldn’t let this go on. “JD, if you do not put that gun down I am going to have to shoot you!” he warned, his voice sounding almost as desperate as Mr. Robinson’s.

“Chris!” Vin hissed at that, but made no move to interfere. He knew his leader was right. It was killing him, almost as much as he knew it was killing Chris, but he knew he was right.

JD began to pull the trigger. “One less villain for our dime store novel.” he breathed, closing his eyes.

“JD!” Chris yelled, leaping forward.

The hammer fell on an empty chamber with an earth shattering snap.

Ken screamed and JD let him fall to the floor where he curled up like a beaten dog, sniveling and whimpering.

Chris froze in place, staring at the scene.

JD stood, his gun hanging loosely from limp fingers, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides, blinking at the spot his victim had been a moment before.

What the hell just happened? Chris wanted to scream.

The those hazel eyes looked up at him, looking so lost and hopeless. So ready for everything to just be over.

And. then, Chris knew exactly what the hell had just happened.

“Oh, shit.” Vin breathed from behind, breaking the silence.

JD turned back to the door and walked out without even the slightest glance at the cursing and rampaging Mr. Robinson. He crossed the street and walked back into the Sheriff’s office.

“JD...” Travis started. he had been watching from the window, doing quite a bit of praying himself on the outcome.

JD walked passed him without a word. He unbuckled his gun belt and laid it on the desk, then walked himself back, through the door, to the cells.

“JD!” Chris called after him as he followed. 

“What happened?” Travis wanted to know, but Chris ignored him.

“Fuck it, JD, stop a moment!” Chris yelled.

JD walked into an empty cell, closing the door behind him. He went to the far corner where the bunk was. He sat at the head of it, his back to the wall, pulled his knees up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around his legs, anchoring himself into place.

Chris was stopped again at the sight of the boy. Taking a deep breath, calming himself, he stepped up to the bars and rested his head against them “JD... kid... don’t do this... please...” he whispered.

But then Buck was rampaging into the room. “What the fuck was that?” he yelled at JD. He threw a glare at Chris. “Why the hell is he locked up?!” Not waiting for an answer, he turned back to JD. “You know Chris could’ve killed you just then?! He could’ve shot you!”

“He should have.” came a clear, cold answer.

Buck hesitated. “What? He should have?” he repeated in disbelief. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He looked at Chris. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he said again. 

Chris looked at his best friend, the man who had stood at his side through the worse he had ever been through, and, now, he was asking him to stand with him again. “He wanted me to shoot.” he explained.

Buck paled. A shaky hand reached up and dragged his hat from his head. “What?” he managed after a few wordless sounds.

Chris turned back to the boy in the cell. “He wanted me to kill him.”

“You should have.” JD responded, this time a little desperation giving his voice a squeak. He sniffed and, finally looked at the two men. “I would have killed Kenny... and you would have let me!” he accused.

“If you were going to kill anyone, you would have loaded your gun.” Chris pointed out.

JD huffed. “An accident...”

Buck huffed back. “You don’t make accidents like that!” He should know, he taught JD just about everything he knew about guns. Toss on Chris’ and Vin’s steady instructions, and there was no way in hell their kid would aim a loaded pistol and not know. He took a step closer to the bars. “You wanted to die!” Then he was rampaging again. “What were you thinking? Why would you want to die? Do you have any idea how many people that would hurt? We need you! You’re our little brother! Mary would be heart broken! And what about Chris? What do you think that would have done to him? I’d be digging two graves for sure!” He threw a glare at Chris just in case he had thought about it himself. 

“I can’t...” came a choked cry. 

Buck snapped his jaw shut, his eyes returning to their kid.

“I can’t do this any more.” JD whimpered, resting his chin on his knees. “I... I just want it to end.” His eyes snapped to Chris again. “I want to die!”

Chris took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He ran a hand up and down the bars. “Did it occor to you that, maybe, you took off your guns and locked yourself in here because, really, you don’t want to die?” he asked softly.

JD blinked at him, then lifted his head. “Did it occur to you that I took off my guns and locked myself in here because I don’t want to hurt anyone else when I go?” he asked just as softly.

Chris stiffened. He pushed away from the bars and turned to Buck with a set jaw and determined expression. “He’s not to be left alone for any reason. Someone is to be always with him.”

Buck nodded, just as determined. “I’ll take first watch.” he offered, already claiming a chair from the office and dragging it in.

Chris looked back at JD who had turned his head to stare at the cold, stone wall. “Just so you know, JD... it’d be a cold day in hell before I send you there.” he swore. 

~~~~~~~~~


	6. Chapter Six

~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Six  
~~~~~

First place they hit was a cattle ranch. The high and mighty cattle baron and his hired guns all thought that they were tough stuff with their six shooters and spurs, fancy chaps and big hats.

And now each one was dangling by razor wire, their gut split open, their innards dangling out. The big, perfect house and all the wealth burning in a twisting inferno that danced when something or someone was tossed into the flames. All the bravo and chest pounding meant nothing when a small iron ball rolled to one’s feet. Then everyone was the same. No matter who was boss and who was hand, who was baron and who was the help... all looked like bits and splattered pieces when they were done.

Death: the true equalizer.

Gregory Gray was nothing but a peasant, an insignificant street urchin from East London where the only sound worth hearing was the Bow Bells. And here he stood, in his fine slicker and his tall top hat, with big men in the dust at his heals. 

This is why he came to America! This is why he brought his brothers to America! To be more than they were born to be!

And now his brothers were dead, distracted by pissing away at a little bitch. They were stupid. They forgot that even beaten bitches can still snap back. And they got what they deserved.

But Gregory Gray was another creature. He was not a stupid man. He was not distracted by physical wants and lusts. Admittedly he did partake, but, when he took a bitch, he made dame sure he knocked the teeth out of the little cunt, and that he was dead before he wiped himself clean.

Never lose control, never get distracted, and never, never let a man walk away thinking he won!

“Gray.”

Gregory acknowledged Flagoon and Mad Dog with a slight bob of the head.

Flagoon was the only other Englishman in the gang. Not from London, but same island, so close enough that he seemed to have some sense. And he had also worked with grenades before with the Rebs during the war between the States. In fact he had grown to rather like when things go boom, the smoke, the ground shaking, the flying body parts... Made him uniquely qualified to be Gray’s man. 

Mad Dog, his name since he hadn’t opted to take another, still wore his muzzle, but had let off snarling some. Well, at least at the two Englishmen. Apparently he could smell the blood on their hands, and he liked it. And he didn’t need a weapon to kill. He had leaped into the fight with the cowboys, ripping them right out of the saddle with his bare hands, beating them to bloody pulps, then dry humping anything that twitched. Kept the rest of the gang far out of arms reach.

“Swan?” Gregory asked.

“Boss’ movin’ ‘e lads out, ‘eadin’ fer ‘at Cross Roads Tavern.” Flagoon answered. “Last stop ‘fore Four Corners.” His eyes narrowed. “Ye sure Swan knows what’s what wi’ ‘em grenadoes?”

Gregory Gray actually smiled, before turning about, snapping his slicker behind him and stepping smartly back to where their horses waited. “If that bugger knew what’s what it all be for nothing. Remember: we ride for Four Corners. He rides hell bound.”

Flagoon huffed as he followed his leader. With a swat at his leg and a whistle, he called Mad Dog after. “Figured ‘at’s where we all be bound sooner ’an later.” he admitted.

Gray swung up on his mount. “Perspective, Flagoon! Hell bound, indeed. Sooner than latter? Well, that’s the point to debate!”

~~~~~

Mr. Robinson slammed his hands down on the desk, leaning over so he could yell at the Judge “I demand to know what you intend to do with JD!”

Judge Travis sighed and set his paper work aside. “Mr. Robinson. I must admit, I expected you yesterday.” he said calmly, folding his hands on the desk in front of him and looking up at the man.

“Yea?” the store owner growled. “Well, I was busy putting my son back together again! No thanks to any of your so-called lawmen!” He threw a glare at Buck.

Buck shrugged. “I’m not a lawman.” He looked to Vin. “More of a hired gun, right?”

Vin tilted his head to one side, an amused smile playing on his lips, but reserved his own opinion. 

Robinson glared a moment more, before shifting his anger back to the Judge. “He is out of control! He needs to be locked up!”

Travis raised an eyebrow. “Last I saw, JD had put himself in a cell. Under his own power. Hardly what I would call out of control.”

The man frowned. “And the charges?”

“Charges?” Buck huffed. “For confronting a thief you’ve been after us to nail for weeks now?”

“Buck.” Travis warned him off.

Grinding his teeth, Buck crossed his arms over his chest and dropped down on the corner of a desk, looking all that much like a scolded child.

Robinson wasn’t satisfied. Waving a hand in Buck’s direction, he exclaimed “They’re all out of control! Did Larabee do a damn thing to stop that boy from shooting my son? I demand that you do something!”

Travis slowly rose to his feet. “Alright, Mr. Robinson.” he growled right back. “I will charge JD with assault right after I charge Ken with theft. Mind you... if a jury of his peers find your son guilty as charged it would pretty much give JD reason proof for his action, so...”

Robinson loss some of his puffed up size. “I’ve taken care of Ken.” he protested, though his tone was hesitant, wary.

The Judge shook his head. “You have insisted that my men find your thief. You have verbally accosted nearly every other of your fellow citizens, accusing them... including myself, so I’ve heard....” He paused as if waiting for the man to protest.

Robinson dropped his eyes.

So, Travis continued. “You have insisted on prosecution. I oblige.”

Mr. Robinson ground his teeth. After seething for a moment, he asked “What must I do to settle Ken’s affairs with.... with the law?”

The Judge tilted his head to one side. “Well, if I had no reason to investigate JD’s accusations which he attributes his actions to...”

“Fine!” Robinson waved his hand in the air. “Fine... But, Travis...” he leaned forward again, his voice dropping as if his next words were just for the two men. “He is out of control. Think what you want of me, but I’m father too. I know when a boy’s in trouble. You need to do something about him.:

Travis leaned forward himself and in the same tone answered “I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good day, Mr. Robinson.”

With a barely contained growl, Mr. Robinson spun about and stormed out of the office.

“Well, that was entertaining.” Buck smirked. 

“No, it was not.” Travis corrected. He looked at Buck. “He has a point. JD assaulted his son. And we did nothing to stop him.” He sighed, falling back in his chair. “What a mess.”

“Is it over?” Nathan asked, poking his head out of the back room where the cells were.

“All clear.” Vin assured and their medic stepped out, carrying a tray of food. 

An untouched tray of food.

Buck frowned. “Still not eating?” he asked, though the answer was obvious. 

Nathan set the tray down on a desk. “Not eating, drinking, sleeping, talking...” Nathan gave Travis a helpless look. “He keeps this up, he’s not gonna need someone to put a bullet in him. He’s killing himself just by doing nothing.” 

“Goddammit.” Buck snarled. Snapping to his feet, he headed for the back room, taking his turn at watching over JD. He slammed the door behind him, shutting out the outside world.

JD was in nearly the exact same position he had been since he had walked himself into the cell yesterday: sitting at the head of the bunk in the corner, his back to the wall, his legs pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. The only difference was, instead of glaring down Chris and Buck, his head was tilted to the side, leaning against the cold stone of the wall, his eyes gazing off at nothing. 

He didn’t even flinch at the slamming of the door, which Buck had slammed just as hard as he could to try and get his to react. When that didn’t work, Buck pulled the chair across the floor, making a loud dragging sound and slammed it down hard next to the bars.

Still no response.

Buck straddled the chair, crossing his arms over the back and glared at the kid. “So....” he growled after a silent moment, “still not eating?”

No response.

Buck rolled his eyes. “You know, kid, you’re really starting to piss me off!” he warned. “I know you! I know you better than you know yourself! You are not a coward! You do not run and hide in the corner when things get tough! You do not give up! This!” He nodded to the boy huddled in the corner. “This ain’t you!”

No response.

“Dammit, JD!” he snapped. Buck ran a hand over his face, trying to calm himself. He took a couple deep breaths before he tried again. “I get that you’re scared. I get that you’re tired and confused and angry. Who the hell wouldn’t be? But you can get through this! And, when you think you can’t...” He shrugged. “Lean on me! I can be brave for both of us! I’m not gonna let you fall!” 

No response.

“JD, come on, kid.” Buck pleaded. “Don’t do this to me.”

No response.

The man ground his teeth. “Okay, fine. You know what? You’re not the first buddy I had to drag, kicking and screaming, back from the ledge! Ask Chris. You think you’ve got stubborn down? I annoyed Chris back to life!” He jabbed a finger through the bars. “I’m ain’t ever gonna give up on you!” 

Buck took a deep breath and, with nothing left to do, began to sing the most annoying song he could think of: “Drink that rot gut, drink that rot gut, Drink that red eye, boys; It don't make a damn wherever we land, We hit her up for joy....”

“Christ almighty, Buck!” Nathan called, opening the door. “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” 

Buck threw him a glare.

But Nathan waved to him. “Just came in on the wire. They hit ol’ McCarthy’s place. Looks like they’re headed this way.”

“They?” JD finally spoke.

Nathan and Buck both looked at him in surprise.

“Um, Swan and his gang.” Nathan answered, then quickly assured “Don’t worry. We’re riding out to stop them. We won’t let them anywhere near Four Corners.”

“I’m going too!” JD declared, but when he stood up his faltered, dizziness washing over him.

Nathan took a step towards the cell, but it was Buck who answered “No way in hell, kid. Just ‘cause you can’t get one of to shoot you, don’t mean we’re gonna let you find someone who will!” 

JD glared at him. 

“JD, you can barely stand.” Nathan added. “You can’t ride into a fight! You want to ride, you need to eat, drink, sleep... get your strength back!”

JD glared at him.

“You just go on and glare.” Buck encouraged, standing and returning his chair to its original position. “Let’s us know you haven’t given up all the way yet.” He even paused to smile at the kid over his shoulder. “Still got some fight in ya.” He didn’t bother to close the door when they stepped out to join the others in the main office. If it would rile JD enough to speak, he wanted him to hear what had to be said.

Chris and the others had already gathered, checking guns and preparing as Travis went over with them what had been in tthe telegram. 

“Unspecified number of assliants, but estimated in the high twenties.” the Judge was saying. He raised an eyebrow at Chris. “You’re two men short.”

Chris nodded. “We’ll make do.”

But Ezra wanted to know “Why two?”

Everyone paused and looked at him.

Never one to take on more work than he had to, this was a fight Ezra wanted very much to be a part of. “I can ride and shoot just as well as any of you.” he protested.

“But you can’t run.” Nathan returned. “You shouldn’t even be walking around much on that foot.”

“But I can ride and shoot...”

Vin set a hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “We don’t know what sort of terrain we’re gonna end up in. Riding in might not be an option. Probably won’t be an option considering the numbers we’re up against. Ambushes are best done on foot.”

Ezra turned a pleading look to Chris.

“No.” was Chris’ simple answer. “Stay here, look after JD, look after the town.” He paused to settle his gunds back in their holsters and take a good look at his men. “There’s also the chance that this is a trap. Draw us out... or away.”

“Away?” Josiah glanced out the window at the town that seemed oblivious to the danger their Seven were preparing for. “They haven’t hit anything as big as Four Corners.”

“Yet.” Chris emphasized. He looked at Judge Travis who had set down the telegram and was belting on a brace of colts. “Judge?” When the old man answered him with only a glance, he told him “You ain’t coming along either.”

Travis shook his head. “There’s an Army patrol moving along the north a ways. I intend to retrieve them.”

“Army? Wonderful.” Buck grumbled, but Chris was nodding.

“Twenty plus, Buck.” Chris snatched his hat off a peg. “Don’t mind an army when we gotta fight an army.” But he shook a finger at the Judge. “Be careful! Take Casy Wells with you. You’ll pass their place on your way. She knows the territory. She can get you there faster and, in a pinch, watch your back.”

“She’s just a child.” Travis protested.

“That won’t save her a bit if Swan and his bastards get pass us.” Chris turned back to Ezra. “Round up some of the local boys, ones who can hale keep an eye out for trouble and will help protect the town long enough for us to get back.”

Ezra sighed, but nodded. “I’ll see to it.” he assured. “But do me a favor?”

They all paused. Ezra asking for a favor? Now that was something they all wanted to hear.

“You catch this Swan bastard? String him up by his balls!” Ezra ground out with very uncharacteristic vulgarity.

Chris actually smiled.   
Not that ha-ha sort of smile. That one that killers wore when they’ve sighted their prey close at hand.  
“Be my pleasure.” he answered. With a glance at the others, saw that they were ready, he spun about, and headed for the door.

“Ride safe!” Travis called after them. When the last one had stepped out the door and mounted up, he added softly “God willing, come home.”

Ezra waited until Travis had headed out of town in the opposite direction of the boys and he had organized a quick group of locals to patrol the town, before returning to the back room of the Sheriff’s office.

JD had returned to his position at the head of the bunk. 

“Guess it’s just you and me, Mr. Dunne. Feel like a game of cards to pass the time?”

No response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out a little more hammered than I wanted it to. I know the major scenes I want, but getting from one to the next is tripping me up.   
> So, feedback is very much appreciated.


	7. Chapter Seven

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Seven  
~~~~~

The Crossroads Tavern sat where one might expect, considering its name: at a cross roads. One road ran west to east, connecting most known towns along the way, including Four Corners only half a day’s ride up. The other was less direct, twisting all about the territory, connecting farms and ranches and way stations and little known villages that dotted the land. It was a large, flat parcel of land, cleared with the idea of a town booming up around the crossroads, as such things tended to do. But Four Corners had already been well established and too close for another town to make a go of it. 

Thus, sat Crossroads Tavern, a way station/trading post that had little to offer for most passing through. 

What Crossroads did have was a Granny Westcott, a woman who would seem to fit right in with the good, god-fear folk of any high and mighty church for Sunday mass, only to step out the doors and cuss out the sun itself for reminding her of that terrible hangover from the night before when she was making a living liquoring up cowboys and emptying out their dropped trouser pockets. Now not a soul could confuse her with a thief. Granny Westcott was well known for sending every man away with not a cent left in his pockets, but not a one complained that he didn’t get what he paid for. Granny had the best brothel in the territory, in all of the West if the right folk were asked. Good, clean, Christian girls and boys, Granny swore, only the finest in her stables.

And, when all else would have seen the little Crossroads Tavern fail and abandoned, Granny Westcott made it the place to be!

Which Buck Wilmington was finding, decidedly, distracting.

How the hell did that pretty little thing ride a horse in that little clothing was beyond him. Though he was studying on it real hard.

“Now, Granny, she’s dealt with bad men before,” the prostitute was explaining to Chris as her horse danced about nervously, “two or threes of them, even fours and fives... they get rowdy an’ Granny, she just snaps her fingers...” she snapped her own for effect, making Chris grab the halter of her horse as it shied away, “’Legs close, girlies!’ an’ their buddies wrangle the rowdy ones in quick enough. But this bunch....” She shook her head. “When the rider came in from McCarthy’s an’ we sent that wire on to you all... Granny knew this was no fight for good church folk.” She glanced at the few wagons of refugees who had made a run for Four Corners as soon as they had gotten the warning. Children and others Granny deemed not fighting material were packed into the three wagons. They wouldn’t make the town before dawn, later if they still tried to be quiet and unnoticed.

“She plans on making a stand.” Josiah concluded. He couldn’t help the surge of admiration for the woman, nor the fear for her and her people. 

Granny Westcott would hardly be the first to try and make a stand against Swan and his gang.

The girl turned a look on him, her chin thrust out, her shoulders up. “You bet you fuzzy balls she is!” she declared twice as fierce as her tiny size should possibly be able to muster. “Granny built our place with her own two hands, took most of us in when there was no where else to go ‘cept under some drunk’s boot or some pimp’s whip! She fed us, clothed us, gave us faith in god and taught us the joy of sinning! There ain’t a man alive that can bump her from her own thrown!”

“How ‘bout near enough to thirty men?” Vin asked.

The girl flinched at that, her bravo weakening under the strain of her own worry and fears. She looked at Chris again, hoping he’d have some encouragement for her.

“How many men does Granny have?” Chris wanted to know.

“Men? Maybe ten, for sure nine. Tavern Joe an’ his three boys... the keep the saloon peaceful like. An’ then our four boys from the stables, an’ then Bobsy, the Stable manager. He’s got a boy workin’ feedin’ the horses an’ all, but don’t know if’n he’ll be worth a piss in a tornado when it comes to a fight.”

“How many stables...” Nathan started to ask, before Buck cut him off with “First one ain’t for the horses.” Nathan thought only half a breath. “Oh.... oh, I get it.”

“Cheers for you.” the girl huffed at the interruption, then continued to Chris “An’s there’s us girls. Granny’s kept six of us, her Hell Bitches, she calls them. They’d do fine in a tooth an’ nail fight, an’ they ain’t all that bad with a pistol an’ blade either.”

“Sixteen.” Buck looked at Chris. “That’s no army, Chris. she stands and fights, and Swan’ll just lob a grenade through a window...”

“I know.” Chris growled. He looked at the girl a moment longer, then released her halter. “Sammy, get your folks moving on to Four Corners. Watch those wagons when it gets dark. Don’t risk a wheel and getting stuck, but get to town!”

The prostitute stared at him with wide eyed hope. “You all gonna go on an’ help Granny?”

Chris gave one bob of his head. “That’s the plan.”

The girl gave one bob right back. “Granny said you would. She also said to tell you all that any ass you save you can ride for free!” That message passed, she jerked on her mount and hurried back to the wagons, giving a squeaky command to move out.

“Well,” Buck whistled, watching her tight, little end bouncing on the back of her horse, “if that isn’t incentive, I don’t know what is.”

“Focus, Buck.” Nathan suggested.

“I am most definitely focused...”

“On the job! Focus on the job!” Nathan reprimanded. Not waiting to see if his friend had snapped out of it or not, he looked to Chris. “You have a plan in mind?”

Chris’ bob of the head was a little less sure this time. “We gonna go an’ help Granny.”

His four men looked at him and waited for more. When no more came, Josiah groaned, declaring “The master plan!”

“Um. Chris,” Vin ventured. “Might wanna do a bit more ponderin’ on that there plan of yours.”

“I got an idea.” Buck held up a hand as if they were sitting around the school house.

Nathan threw him a glare, but Chris asked anyhow “Being?”

“Crossroads got those hills on either side, right? And Granny’s got those mustang paddocks for her Bareback Rodeo.”

“There any special meaning to that Bareback Rodeo?” Nathan wondered, and instantly regretted it when Buck threw him a dirty grin.

“Focus!” Josiah reminded them.

“Well, anyway, a big gang’s not gonna be able to ride through there shoulder to shoulder. Particularly when they actually get to the crossroads where the two main buildings are. They’re gonna get all funneled in there all nice and neat, just lining themselves up for anyone on those hills with a good rifle and good line of sight.” Buck went on to explain.

Chris was nodding to that. “Get Granny and her folk to harass them behind closed doors, keep them on the upper floors, blockade the lower floors...”

Vin was also agreeing. “Maybe blockade one end so they bunch up. Be like shooting fish in a barrel.” He reached down to pet his rifle like it was a loyal hound.

“Cut off retreat with a fire... it’ll be dark by then.” Josiah added. “Light them up and blind them all at once.”

“We’re gonna have to get someone down there and get them on the same track as us.” Chris decided. He threw Buck a look. “Considering you know the layout so well...”

“We’re only, maybe, an hour closer than Swan is. We got time for all that?” Nathan wondered.

Josiah chuckled. “Only one way to find out.”

That point made, Chris put heal to flank, and the Seven were off, running their horses as fast as they could go, down the road for the Crossroads Tavern.

~~~~~ 

“Bloody hell, weak as wee kit.” He leaned in, pushing further, hot, rancid breath burning JD’s eyes. “Purrrrrrr for me, ma weak, li’le kit.”

“JD? Sweetheart?”

Hazel eyes barely flickered in Mary’s direction. He hated that she was there, watching him, seeing him. He could feel her pity like the thick, humid air just before a summer storm. Made it hard to breath, hard to see, hard to simply just be.

“Come on already, Billy, ‘ive me a turn! Couple more thrusts an’ ye’d ‘ave split ‘im in two. Ah might as well wiggle my willy in a wishin’ well for all ‘e good it’d do.”

“JD, would you please look at me.”

He wished she’d go away. Wanted to scream at her to go away. Go away and just leave him alone! Leave him alone, in his own little hell, with those two demons that just kept ripping away at him, dragging him further and further and further away into nothing.

“Go ahead, sweet’eart, keep on fightin’. Just makes ye tighter, sweeter... ah, bloody hell, yea.... fight!”

“And how is our dear, little Mr. Dunne?”

“I don’t know if he can even hear me.”

A thick, sloppy tongue slobbered around his ear, teeth nipping, words hissed out in a humid breath “Ah’m gonna fuck ye so goddamn deep, ye’ll be able to taste my willy.”

“It’s alright, Mary. I’ll take over. Mr. Donalds is outside. He’ll walk you home and take night rounds.”

No, wait!  
Please don’t go!  
Don’t leave me alone!  
Don’t leave me alone with them!  
I don’t want to be alone with them again!  
Please!  
Please.....

“Good night, Ezra. Call for me if you need anything.... Good night, JD. We love you.”

JD wanted to scream, call her back, beg her to stay, cry and whimper. Grab the bars and shake them. Pound his fists against the stone walls.

“Bloody hell, weak as wee kit.” He leaned in, pushing further, hot, rancid breath burning JD’s eyes. “Purrrrrrr for me, ma weak, li’le kit.”

“So, Mr. Dunne... John...?”

Ezra!

Flash of the knife as the Boss stepped toward the crumpled body.

"Stay away from him!" the little one suddenly roared, kicking out and catching the Boss on the elbow, spinning him about.

“From who?”

Hazel eyes flickered to where Ezra was poised over a chair, half way to sitting, now just hanging there, staring at him.

When Ezra saw the shift in his eyes, he rose up again and stepped back to the bars. “Who’s supposed to stay away from who?” he asked.

JD blinked at him.

“Watch ‘im scrawny legs, Danny-Boy. ‘is weak kit can kick, by god!” 

“I’m not weak.”

Ezra tilted his head. “Never thought you were.” he answered. He leaned against the bars, a mug of something steaming in his hands. “Fact may be that you are the strongest person I have ever met.”

Again JD blinked at him.

The gambler watched the boy closely, waiting, hoping for something more.

Fingers dug into his thighs, fingernails taring skin. Billy Club laid across his back, digging his teeth in his shoulder, ramming harder, more erratic, grunting with every...

“Did you know...” Ezra tapped his temple with one long finger like he was sharing a secret with a small child, “that the mind is truly a work of wonder?”

JD blinked, this time focusing on Ezra as the gambler seemed to just appear in front of him, taking a seat on the far end of the cot from him. 

Ezra paused to take a sip from his steaming mug. “The mind remembers every little detail of everything you see, hear, feel... Now, the trick is sorting through all that information to find the needed information. For example...” He reached out and set the mug between JD’s feet. “Be so kind as to hold onto that for me?” Not waiting for an answer, he produced a deck of cards and began to deal. “When I sit in a tavern there are so many details flooding into my mind that it is practically an assault on my senses: light coming in through the windows, reflected off crystal glasses; the boisterous laugh of a drunken oaf; the thick aroma of a finely aged whiskey or rakish stench of a cheap cigarette; a boot slipping on the sand on the floor; the giggle of a saloon girl trying to earn her wage; the finger tapping of the self proclaim card shark sitting across from me and the nervous hum of his cheating partner to my right; the creak of the leather of their gun holsters as a man behind me slips an intimidater free from its cradle... Do you see? All this information layered upon one another is like finding a single footprint in a New Orleans during festival. But!” And he snapped up one finger.

JD’s eyes snapped up, following the finger.

Ezra smiled. “But, if you learn to focus, to see and listen and sort through all that information, spotting key details... like this very scene I just described... do you remember it?”

JD shook his head ever so slightly. Despite the gentle movement, the mug between his feet sloshed just a bit, and the boy reached down to cup it in his hands, keeping it safe.

Despite the excited beating in his chest, Ezra forced a frown. “Indeed? I am wounded.” He held the queen of hearts over his own heart in a show of pain. Then he gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, allow me to illuminate you: It was May, a year ago. I knew the man across from me was cheating because, despite the many distractions of the room, I could hear his boot slipping under the table, kicking his jittery partner. His partner kept twisting a ridicules crystal bottle of a very expensive whiskey, reflecting the light back into my eyes, yet, as I knew it would, simply drew the attention of our very own Chris Larabee sitting at the table to my back. It was he who slipped his weapon from its holster. And, when I called the cheat for what they were, it was the drunken oaf, yes, our less than dear Buck Wilmington, who took the card shark from behind.” Ezra smiled again. “It was quite amusing watching the pair man handled in a way only Chris and Buck could master right out of town.”

JD’s lips twitched.

“My point being...” Ezra’s eyes sought after JD’s, finally catching those hazel eyes. “All those bits of memory forcing themselves to the front of your mind right now, those flashes of detail, of, I can only imagine, horrors... They are all just details, distractions, disturbances. Find the needed information... Like Vin’s chuckle; you hear it so rarely, that’s a detail that says something. Or Buck’s playfulness, always finding a smile in the darkest of times. Nathan and his gentle, healing skills. Josiah’s words of wisdom particularly when you don’t want to hear them. Chris... somehow always there, protecting, defending the week from the arrogant and mighty. All of them, good memories, happy and safe, that, by far, out number the bad, no matter how horrendous and overpowering the bad seems. For example...” Ezra shrugged. “In the last several minutes that I have sat here, watching you sip at that broth in your hands, remembering a good memory... how many times did you think of those bad ones?”

JD blinked. He glanced down at the mug in his hands, half empty already. The heat from the broth was soothing his empty belly like a warm blanket, settling the ache of hunger. He couldn’t remember drinking it or the taste.   
Did it still taste like rotten hay?  
He knew he should feel tricked, angry, hurt...

But Ezra was remembering another time, another good memory: “I remember that day you introduced yourself. I can ride, I can shoot... apparently you had developed the rare skills of flying and swimming as well.” A chuckle. 

~~~~~~~~~~


	8. Chapter Eight

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Eight

~~~~~

It all seemed too quiet.

Admittedly it was late. The moon was high, the stars bright, the air crisp, the coyotes howling and yipping off in the dark. Even the busiest of towns would have settled in hours ago.

But this wasn’t the busies of towns. This wasn’t even a town.

This was a tavern and whore house! This was exactly the type of place that should be howling at the moon right up to dawn, drunken brawls and wild gun fire and laughter and music and screams and squeals and all the other racket that good town folk made such a fuss over.

Still, there sat the Crossroads Tavern, quiet as a church. Well, there were lights on in the tavern and the usual torches lit around the yard. There were some music and some laughter coming from the tavern, even some squeals and cursing from the whore house adjacent to the tavern.

But it just seemed so damn tamed!

And that bugged the hell out of Swan.

“We goin’ in or not, Boss?” huffed one of his men. “’Cause, you know, if’n you just wanna sit up here and listen to the pretty music, me ‘n’ the boys’d be happy to go on down an’ turn it up for you.”

Swan glanced over his shoulder at the speaker. He made a mental note not to be all that surprised if the man was found dead at the end of the next skirmish, victim of some random shot. Or maybe he should just shoot him now and send a clear message that they went only when he was damn good and fucking ready to go!

He sighed. A shot now would surely warn those in the tavern, considering how quiet and behaved they were acting.

Just then a ruckus came from the tavern, drawing their attention.

A cowboy stumbled back, out of the swinging doors to fall on his butt in the dirt. a barely clothed, squealing girl ran after. Laughter and teasing and good nature cursing sounded from both the cowboy and, apparently, his friends inside. A glass was shattered and a not so good nature cursing answered. The girl helped the obviously drunk cowboy to his feet and they staggered back into the tavern to continue their fun.

“Well.” Swan chuckled, “that’s what I like to see.” He turned in his saddle to look back at the twenty-five men that followed him. “Alrighty, boys, in the grand tradition of them Caribean pirates... Rape, murder and pillage to your heart’s content!”

With a wild cheer, the gang rushed forward, charging down the road in a mad race to be the first one to get him some blood!

~~~~~

Buck was barely back through the swinging doors when he dipped his head to give Lulu a kiss, then a swat on the rear, sending her squealing for the stairs.

“Buck Wilmington, I aughta charge you double for that!” the prostitute laughed as she ran up the steps.

“Be gladly to pay, darlin’.” was Buck’s answer, though everything about him was suddenly gunslinger serious. “Joe, get that door braced up and get the shutters close! Sounds like those boys bought the preview and are coming in for the whole show!”

Tavern Joe was a big guy who took a hold of the big player piano and shuved it toward the door two of his boys had already closed. A couple of the girls were closing the big, heavy shutters on the windows while the men grabbed the heavy cross bars and dropped them in place.

“Alright, everyone up, up, up!” came Granny Westcott’s commanding voice from the top of the stairs. “Find your window! And wait! I hear one shot before it’s time, you can forget about God’s wrath! Won’t be nothing left after Granny’s wrath!”

Buck, last one to go, backed up the stairs, giving the ground floor one last look. “Looks secure.” he mumbled.

“Sure as hell is!” Granny snarled. “Built this joint to keep those red heathens out... well, long as they came without money to spend... should hold well for this.”

Buck looked up at the formidable woman.

There was nothing small about the woman. A tall 6’3”, broad shoulders, wide hips, thick legs, sun bleached hair that fell down her back like a cape, and a bosom that could... and did!... hide any number of weapons from brass knuckles to a heavy Starr Army revolver. And biggest of all was her presence. She didn’t just walk into a room. She took over the room!

And, somehow, Buck felt the very desperate need to protect her. So, he smiled his best and agreed with her with a nod.

Granny wasn’t buying it. “Well, shit and damnation, this is gonna be a real fuck up, ain’t it, boy?” Her voice had dropped so only he could hear.

Buck gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “You’ll do fine. Just keep everyone shooting. They don’t have to hit anyone, just keep them from thinking too much. Chris and the boys got themselves some good spots and will be picking them off. Moon like tonight... they can nearly see as good as day.”

Granny patted his cheek and answered through the clenched teeth of a forced smile “Bullshit, Buck. But least we’ll take some of them bastards with us!” With that, she turned and started yelling orders to her people. “Man that window! Carrie, you can’t shoot to save your ass... I told you, girl, you got the fire bucket! Seen you toss men twice your size! You’ll handle that bucket fine... Gery, I ain’t paying you to polish your gun. Least not that one just right now! Get your hands on cold steel, boy!... Riahnna, Chase.... Damn bunch of fuckin’ rabbits you all are!... Pray to god He sees us through this night! ‘Cause I’m castrating half of you come dawn if you don’t get your minds off the job and onto the business at hand! And laugh, damn you all! We’re supposed to be having a gay ol’ time, remember?!”

Buck almost did laugh. he could fall in love... again.... with a woman like Granny. ‘Course he could practically fall in love with all women. Still, Granny was really something special.

Then came the snapped “What the fuck, you grinning bastard? Buck Wilmington, if’n you don’t get on with it, I’ll line you right up along the rest of my stable with their peckers hanging out waiting for the snip! Get!”

Buck snapped to and was off, running for the ladder that led to the roof. Up on the roof, Buck kept low, behind the peek. There wasn’t that much of a slant to the roof, so slipping wasn’t going to be a problem as long as he didn’t try to rush things too much.

A quick glance at the stables across the road, and Buck could make out the tops of four heads: Bobsy and his crew, laying in wait.

Then came the pounding of hooves and the shouting and wild cries of men hungry for blood.

True to prediction, the gang charged right down the road, funneled by the tall fences of the paddocks and bleachers on either side of the east road. They could ride maybe six across, and even that had horses nipping at each other. They whooped and yelled, firing their gun at just about anything.

Buck heard a horse scream and one of the mounts in the paddock went down. He gritted his teeth, adding another to the list of reasons these sons of bitches had to die. damn them all to hell, shooting a horse for no damn good reason! Just for the pure evil of it!

“Over here, Bucko!” came a hissed call. 

Buck glanced at the neighboring roof where one of Granny’s ‘pretty boys’ waited for him. Standing up just long enough to make the running leap over the three feet that separated the tavern from the brothel, he quickly dropped down to the flatter roof, behind the big front of the building. 

The young man flashed him a brilliant smile when he landed at his side. “Sounds like a rip roaring good time down there... too bad none of them fellas have any interest in paying for the privilege.”

Buck eyed the pretty boy. “Don’t think it’s as much fun for them if payment was involved... or willingness for that matter.” Then he eyed him again, making note that he was a very pretty boy. But then shook his head, pushing aside such thoughts for a later time. He rose up, just enough to see over the side and wondered “Where’d you all get them Quaker wagons anyhow? Those things look like brick houses on wheels.”

He was talking about the three wagons they had used to block the three roads that exited the crossroads. A man could still get around them if he got off his horse. But it’d be hell to try and move them without the help of a team of horses. Between them, the three buildings, and the tall paddock fences, the crossroads had turned into a fairly secure trap. Already the front runners of the charge were bunching up, too close to dismount, too big to go anywhere.

The pretty boy leaned against him and peered down. “Oh, well, that was a couple of brothers and their wives that pulled on in here ‘cause they wanted to avoid the evils of a town.” he chuckled. “Took one look at the sinning going on around here and went stark raving mad!”

Buck looked down at him now that he was practically climbing up his arm. “They took off without their gear? committed suicide or something?”

“Nay. They joined the show. sure you met my brother and sister-in-law, Chase and Riahnna?” He ran his hand over Buck’s shoulder. 

The gunman’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “You? A Quaker?”

“Like I said: stark raving mad!” Again he grinned that brilliant smile. But then he turned and looked back up the east road. “Should we lite it up now?”

“Huh?” Buck had to take a breath to remember why he was up here. “Oh, yea.... um, right... not yet... still got about eight or so out of the killing grounds.” He slid back away from the edge, crawled over the other man’s legs, and headed for the far eastern corner of the building. Waiting in the corner was a pair of bottles of lamp oil with soaked clothes hanging out the tops. Down below, running across the street, was a heavily saturated trail of oil. 

The Quaker turned prostitute actually giggled. “My! Look at that wonderful view.” he coed, watching Buck’s backside. “I’m just gonna have to let you save my ass!”

Buck actually blushed. “Focus.” he suggested.

Another giggle was the only answer. 

Buck turned his attention to the gang below. He had spotted Swan almost right off, leading the charge, now mulling around in confusion just in front of the tavern. The Boss yelled for someone to kick in the doors and drag the whores out. Buck held his breath and felt for the reassuring grip of the gun on his hip. He knew the doors would hold, but, they had been pretty sure of themselves the last time they had ridden after this guy.

Even more reason to hurry this show up.

With a quick glance, Buck made sure all the riders had passed into the killing grounds. Then he handed one of the bottles to the pretty boy. “Remember: soon as we light these things and stand up we’ll be uno numero on the target list.”

“Gotcha. Toss and drop.”

Buck used a match to light his, then, quickly, lit the other. “Go!” he shouted, leaping to his feet and throwing the bottle, dropping back down without even waiting to see it hit.

Pretty boy was only a second behind him, but it had been just long enough for someone to get a sight on him. The Quaker turned prostitute had just launched his fiery missile when he cried out and spun about, dropping to the roof at Buck’s feet.

Buck quickly snatched him and dragged him back to the corner as bullets ripped at the thick wood siding around them.

“Well, shit.” groaned the pretty boy as Buck checked the wound. “’least I’ll die in the arms of a beautiful man.”

Buck shook his head. “You’re not gonna die. Clean through. Might have to take a rain check on any ass saving retribution for a few weeks, but you’ll live.”

The brilliant smile, though a little strained this time. 

“Stay down, keep pressure on it.” Buck ordered, handing him his bandanna. He slid back down the roof, 

The yelling from street level was suddenly turned into panicked shouts and alarmed cries as bullets began to rip through their numbers. Granny and her people were by far not the best of shots, but it was hard to miss when twenty-seven men on horse back were all mulling around a cramped space.Add that to the high pitched sounds of rifles being shot from some distance off with deadly accuracy, and the killing grounds was beginning to earn it’s name.

“Grenade!” Buck heard shouted. Pulling his gun, he looked over the top again, searching the area for Swan, who he knew had to be the one with the little round bombs.

There was Swan still near the front of the tavern. He was pointing to the second story windows where Granny’s people were making themselves known. A rider a few feet away threw a grenade up and through a window with an amazingly accurate throw.

“No!” Buck snapped, firing and taking out the grenade tosser. 

But it was too late. 

Firing stopped from the building as cries and screams and curses sounded.

Buck closed his eyes, waiting for the explosion.

But none came.

In fact, it had gotten suddenly quiet as everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for the deadly boom.

Then Granny appeared in the window and threw the grenade right back, bouncing it off someone’s head and knocking him off his horse. “No wonder you’re all such assholes!” she yelled down at the gang. “Even your balls are cold, useless duds!” She ducked back down just before a hail of bullets tore at the window.

Buck couldn’t help but chuckle as he took aim and shot another man out of the saddle.

Yea, he was defiantly in love!

~~~~~

“Jesus!” Vin hissed. “Did you see that?” he wondered from his perched atop the hill just to one side of the west road. He was kneeling on the ground, using a boulder to steady his rifle as he took shot after deadly shot at the gang below.

Beside him, Josiah chuckled. “I do believe I like her.” he admitted. He was reloading his rifle, reading it for Vin to use. He was a fair shot himself, but, at this distance, it was agreed upon that Vin and Chris would do the shooting, them being, by far, the marksmen of the team. The added benefit was being able to take time to watch the show.

And what a show!

The bright moon and the back drop of flames lit the scene up like a play on a stage.

Josiah couldn’t tell which was more of a distraction to the war band of rapist and murderers: the half naked girls in the windows; or the fact that those half naked girls had some pretty damn good accuracy when it came to throwing full chamber pots and varies forms of knives. The men of the Crossroads Tavern were making a pretty good show of it themselves.

Then came Vin and Chris. Vin never missed, and Chris only occasionally missed, and then only enough that he hit a shoulder instead of a chest. Either way, a man went down with every shot.

Already more than half of the attackers were on the ground.

Between that and the failed grenade, and the gang was all but broken.

“Swan!” Vin suddenly hissed. “I have him.” But just before he pulled the trigger, his target and leaped off the back of his mount and disappeared under the horses. “Dammit!”

There was a sudden explosion from the stables. 

Both men flinched, averting their eyes for just a breath, unable to resist the memory of that flash that took them down the last time they had face Swan and his gang. They quickly recovered with a shared look, assuring the other that they had been too far away to have been effected by the blast.

“That,” Josiah observed “was not a dud.”

Through the flames and smoke and splintering wood, an opening could be seen torn out of the front of the building. Outlaws, on foot now, dodged between panicking horses and behind even their own brethren, raced toward the escape.

“Ah, hell.” Vin breathed, raising to his feet and taking a step out of his cover for a better vantage point. He took another shot, then another, dropping two men just before they had made it through the opening. “Dammit!” he cursed again. “Did you see how many got through?”

Josiah was already handing him a loaded rifle. “Three, maybe four.” was his answer. “Think one was Swan.”

Vin looked over the trap. 

There wasn’t much left to shoot there. A few horses were running this way and that, but didn’t really have anywhere to go. Bodies crawled across the ground, most just laid still. All that was left there was the clean up.

Swan’s gang was done.

But it had been done before. If Swan got away again, he’d just raise up another and continue his rampage across the country.

No, this had to end.   
They had to get Swan!

~~~~~

By the time Buck had gotten down to the ground floor, the barn’s front was already burning hot. A couple of Granny’s boys were already opening the doors, buckets in hand.

“Wait!” Buck started, but it was too late.

Bullets took both of them down, one with a chest shot, the other in the leg.

Buck rushed in from the side, kicking the door closed again. Yelling back at Granny and her people as they raced down the stairs, he reminded them “Fight ain’t over yet!”

Granny had already dropped to her knees next to the chest shot man. He grinned up at her with his last breath before falling back to the floor dead. The old woman ground her teeth and glared up at Buck. “Can’t let those bastards get away!” Even more determined, she reminded him “I have four boys up on that roof. I’ll be fucked by the King of England before I let them burn up while I sit here knitting them doillies for their headstones!”

“Yea.” Buck breathed, fighting the distraction of the imagery. “I don’t see you doing that. But, girl, leave this to us. Stay here, keep your people safe! I’ll bring your boys back to you.” he promised. That said, he looked at Tavern Joe. “That window, there. Get ready to open it, then get the hell away from it. ready? Three, two... fuck me, one!”

Joe jerked the shutters open, then dropped to the floor. Bullets tore through the room above him, sending glass and wood chips flying through the air.

While the shots were focused on the window, Buck slipped out the door and ran straight across the street. He had to jump across bodies, pausing long enough to kick one in the head when he made a weak attempt to raise his gun. Then he dived right through the hole in the wall, like a lion through a flaming loop at the circus.

No where near as majestic as a lion, though, Buck hit the dirt floor and somersaulted a few feet before he hit a tack box with a thud. Dazed for a moment, he looked around, blinking through tears.

Everything was hazy with smoke, the only light coming from the flames dancing up the walls and whisps of flaming hay blowing through the air. In preparation for this possibility, the horses had all been let loose in the farthest paddock from the action. The only innocent Buck could see what a cat yeowling for all she was worth at the situation.

Some angry brute raised his boot to kick at the poor creature. But, suddenly, the stable boy dropped out of the rafters and shoved the man away. Scooping up the cat, he rolled up in a ball, protecting the feline with his own body. Cursing at them, the brute came back, raising his boot to kick at the kid.

“Hey!” Buck coughed, bracing himself up on the tack box, and raising his gun.

“Get away from him!” Bobsy, the stable manager, yelled as he dropped out of the rafters to land on the attacker. grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and back of the pants, Bobsy threw him across the barn to slam into the ground only a couple of feet from Buck.

Buck too advantage, leaping after to strike the brute across the head with his pistol, dropping him like a rock.

Once Bobsy saw him down, he spun about and scooped up his stable boy, cat and all, then turned back to see to Buck.

“Where’s the others?” Buck asked. When Bobsy just shook his head, he told him “Get out! Get out now!”

Bobsy didn’t need to be told twice. The man and his charge were leaping through the hole and disappearing into the night before Buck could take another breath.

And before he could take a breath after that, Buck felt the cold steel of a gun barrel press against the back of his head. 

“Now you gotta be the dumbest shit on god’s green earth.” Swan observed. He leaned forward, snatching Buck’s weapon from his hand. “Jus’ what in hell you think you were gonna do comin’ in here like that?”

Buck shrugged. “Save the day, impress the pretty ladies... help save a cat...”

“Now you gonna see I get out of here alive.” Swan growled. He grabbed a handful of the back of Buck’s shirt and dragged him back to the back paddock doors. Two of his men were waiting there for him. They each had one of Granny’s boys held at gun point, their own human shields.

“You’re not gonna get out of here, Swan.” Buck told him. “Not alive, you ain’t.”

“Why should I listen to you? Already proved you weren’t the brightest of fellas.” Swan hissed back. “’sides I seen your boss man. He’d burn the world down himself, if’n he thought it’d save one of his boys.”

“Horses only a couple hundred yards out, boss. Get to them...” one of his henchmen informed them. He dragged his human shield a little closer and glanced around at the burning barn around them, eager to be out before it all came down.

Swan wasn’t in much of a mood to wait either. “Get goin’, boys! Soon you got a mount, drop these bastards and ride like hell!” he ordered.

The first one used his shield to slam the doors open, then, staying close to his back, pushed him out before him. The first few steps was hesitant, but, when no shots came, he began to push his captive into a run for the horses. 

The second watched until he got half way there, then shoved his own shield forward so hard, the man went down in the dirt. Not bothering to take the time to snatch him up again, he aimed his gun.

“No, don’t!” Buck yelled but was drowned out by a gun shot.

The brute’s head snapped back, and one side of his head vanished in a spray of blood. His dead body fell back into the barn at Buck’s feet.

So close the shots almost sounded as one, the first henchman snapped back away from his hostage, sprawling back in the dirt, dead before he hit the ground.

A dark figure Buck recognized at once ran across, snatching at the hostage and dragging him out of sight.

Swan stood very still for a long moment, his gun still pressed to the back of Buck’s head. Then, as if it finally accord to him what had happened, he screamed “Fuck!” Jerking back on Buck, dragging his captive back into the burning barn, he looked about for another escape.

“There’s nowhere to go, Swanny.” Buck coed. “You are out of options!”

“Shut the fuck up, you fuckin’ piece of shit!” Swan roared, smacking his gun across the back of Buck’s head.

Pain made Buck gasp, his vision blearring with bright flashes of light.

“Swan!” came a yell from just beyond the open doors.

Chris Larabee!

“Stay out!” Swan snapped. “I’ll blow this fucker’s head clean off! I’ll do it gladly!”

There was a pause. Then Josiah’s voice: “Where do you think you can go, Swan? The barn’s about to come down. You’ll burn alive in there!” he reasoned.

“Then he burns with me!”

“Means you won’t be left walking around?” Buck ground out. “I’m good with that.”

“I said shut up!” He shook his captive violently, before turning his attention back to Josiah. “You all get the hell back! get where I can see you or I’ll plug this cowboy! I will!”

“Think this through, Swan.” Josiah continued. “You still have a chance of walking away from this with your life.”

The gang leader barked out a laugh at that. But then another thought came to him. “Where’s Larabee? I wanna know where Larabee is?” Where the hell was that devil?!

“Taking a bead on you right now.” Buck assured him. “You ever seen Chris shoot? He could drop you from a mile away and never even mess my shirt.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Swan went wild, releasing his hold on Buck so he could put his full strength in pistol whipping him. One good strike slammed Buck to his knees with a bloody gash across his head. He didn’t get a second strike.

Chris stepped out around the door and fired. 

The bullet took took Swan in the chest, slamming him back.

Chris moved quickly, putting himself between Buck and the fallen Boss. But he knew there was no need. Swan was dead, a gaping hole in his chest where his heart had been.

“What took you so long?” Buck grumbled, clutching his bleeding head.

“Some big cowboy was standing in the way.” Chris complained. He grabbed Buck under the arm and hauled him to his feet.

“Got him.” Nathan assured, sliding under Buck’s arm and leading him out. Josiah was already dragging Granny’s man out to safety. Vin was beyond them, keeping watch in case they had missed someone.

Chris gave Swan one last look, before turning and following his men out just before the burning rafters began to fall, burying the body.

~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, someone pestered me to write a story about Granny Westcott and the Crossroads Tavern and Brothel.   
> Anyone think she's worthy of her own story or just a good background character?


	9. Chapter Nine

~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Nine  
~~~~~

He had escaped.

Almost....

He had head butted Billy Club, splitting his lip and sending him stumbling back, falling over his brother.

It had almost been a shock when JD realized that there no were hands grabbing at him, no heavy body laying on him. He was free! And then he was scrambling back, away, just as fast as his bruised and busted up body would move. Twisting about he somehow got to his feet.   
Oh, his legs felt like pudding and he almost went down again.   
But, no, he would not fall!   
He would not stop!   
He would not give up!

He could hear running water, feel a cool night breeze, see moon light...

Then the world exploded in white hot flashes.

“Ye bloody bastard!” snarled Billy as his fingers twisted in JD’s hair and he slammed him again, face first into the side of a wagon. He let his victim fall and stood over him. “’ere the hell ye ‘ink ye be goin’?” he demanded, spitting blood at the boy. Not bothering with an answer, he grabbed JD by the ankle and began dragging him back to their little pile of rotting hay. “Hobble ‘is bugger, will ye, Danny-Boy?!”

JD wined as he was dragged away from his escape, his freedom. He reached for it, clawed at the dirt floor, trying to get back to it. Dirt and slivers rammed under his fingernails, leaving little bloody tracks where he tried, desperately to hang on.

He couldn’t believe that he had been that close...  
And now he wasn’t.   
And now...

Billy Club dropped him and stradled his legs while Danny-Boy tied rope around his ankles. He leaned over his bare back and growled in JD’s ear “Only escape outta ‘ere, me pretty li’le bitch, is six feet down. An’ jus to remind ye of yer place...” He rammed himself into JD’s body with such force the boy screamed before passing out.

JD choked, jerking his head away from the cold stone of the wall, jerking his legs even tighter to his body, trying to free them from...  
From...  
From no one...

He stared at his feet, nestled securely in his boots, the rope scars hidden under thick leather and wool socks.

With a groan, he dropped his head on his knees and held on tight, waiting for the shaking to subside. It never really ended, just faded. Like the flashes of images, the memory of their touch, the whiff of their scent... sometimes faded, but always there.

JD was tired. He was exhausted. He just wanted to close his eyes and let it all be over. But every time he closed his eyes, it came flooding back.  
No, flood was the wrong word. He had seen floods, worse, flash floods! The destruction that rushing water brought was nothing like those memories raking at his soul. And, when the waters finally receded, there was something clean about the land, like it got a new start. There was nothing clean about the way he felt. He felt filthy, contaminated, broken, destroyed.

He tried to do what Ezra told him to do: pick out the detail he wanted, focus on the good, the one bit of light...  
But how could he when everything was so dark?

And what happened when Ezra had talked to him until he fell asleep?  
Fuckin’, screamin’ nightmare all over again!  
At least when he stayed awake, he usually could keep the memories at arm length. Yea, he could hear them, even feel them, but he knew they were just memories! But, when he was asleep, he was remembering; he was reliving!

And he couldn’t, he just couldn’t, go through it all again!

“How are you doing, son?”

JD’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at Judge Travis who stood in the doorway. 

The old man looked dusty and trail weary. He stood a little bow legged like he was sore from a long ride he wasn’t used to. Tired and worn as he was, he still offered JD a gentle smile. 

JD refused it, turning his eyes back to the cold, stone wall of his cell.

Orrin Travis gave a long sigh. “I’m afraid time is not ours at this moment, but, I promise, when I get back, we’ll sit down together and have a talk.” When JD didn’t respond, he sighed again. Then he backed out into the office and turned to face the men waiting for him.

Ezra Standish and Captain Evan Wright stood over the desk, looking down at a map.

Ezra looked up, expectantly, when the Judge returned.

Travis didn’t look happy. “There’s sop much boiling in that young man, I worry he just might bust apart.” he shared his thoughts.

Ezra’s expression sank. “Yes, well, if anyone has reason, our Mr. Dunne certainly does.” But then he shrugged. “Mr. Arshad suggested that sometimes a man has to break after such an event before he can start putting the pieces back together.”

“And, sometimes,” spoke up the Army Captain, “when a man breaks, he simply stays broken. Take the men that Swan swept up from our prison transport. One of those army rejects had been worked over in the worse ways by Comanches. Once we got him back, though, it was almost like he’d turned rabid. He’d broke so bad and ended up murdering the doctor and his wife that had nursed him back from the brink, tore them apart with his bare hands... and then rapping them both... after they were dead! It was sick, it was!”

Ezra stared at the man in open mouth horror that he could possibly be comparing their JD to something so wrong.

Travis, himself, huffed at the idea. “Well, we’ll be sure to watch for such.” He stepped up to the desk and looked down at the map. “For now, let’s make sure no one else has to suffer such a fate at the hands of these bastards. Where are the boys?”

Ezra tapped a spot on the map. “Crossroads Tavern. We received their refugees a little before breakfast this morning.”

Wright smiled a little. “The very, very friendly folks camped just outside of town?” His Calvary unit had been welcomed in the most... aroused way when they had first arrived only half an hour ago. It had taken every once of meanness his Sargents had to keep the boys from responding in like as they rode pass. And then they made sure to sit the boys down on the other side of town to be sure none wandered off. 

The gambler smirked. “That would be them. Has the good women of Four Corners up in arms. Mrs. Travis had to move fast to point out the children in the wagons before there was an outright cat fight...” He hesitated, glancing at Travis.

But the judge was too busy staring at the map. “If Chris was to do something, it would have been last night.” he mumbled. “No word?”

“Miss Sammy said they found a cut in the line on their way here, sometime just before dawn.”

Now the Captain frowned. “That’d be closer to town than I would have thought. Could they have by passed the Crossroads and be heading straight here?”

Ezra shook his head. “Probably some scouts. To bypass the Crossroads they’d have to come through the woods here, and that’d be a challenge with the number of men Swan has. Besides, that’d make them ahead of Miss Sammy. They would have attacked us last night if that was the case.”

Travis agreed with Ezra. “No, they would have come through the Crossroads and that is where Chris would have met them. There’s too much loot and...” He paused, searching for the right word.

“Victims.” Ezra supplied it.

The Judge nodded. “They wouldn’t have passed up the Crossroads. That’s where we need to head. If Chris met them there, he either stopped them, or they stopped him. Either way, our aid will be needed.” He put his hands on his back and stretched, feeling his old bones creak and pop.

Captain Wright eyed the old man. “Sir, might I suggest...”

“No, you may not.” Travis cut him off. “This is my territory, those are my people, my boys. I intend to see to their needs... even if I have to ride holes right through my britches!” he declared. That said, he offered a nod to Ezra, then headed for the door.

The Army Captain watched him go, then shared with Ezra “That’s one tough, ol’ bastard.”

Ezra smiled, actually feeling a bit of pride as if Judge Travis could have been his own father. “We’re quite fond of him that way.” Then he gave the Captain a hard look. “We’d appreciate if you kept him that way.”

~~~~~

Flagoon was almost tempted to fidget as the Cavalry officer and Judge walked pass, heading for their horses. He leaned over the hitching rail and scratched his own mount’s nose, watching from the corner of his eye as the two men rejoined the Cavalry unit, mounted up, and headed out of town. He waited another few minutes before mounting up and heading in the opposite direction. 

Some fifteen minutes out of town, following rabbit trails through the underbrush and winding around trees, he found a small creak where Gregory Gray and Mad Dog waited for him.

“Well, ‘ey be off. Looks like ‘ey be headin’ out after Swan an’ ‘em lads.” Flagoon informed them as he dismounted and walked up to where Gray stood at the edge of the water. “Horse soldiers ‘is close...” he paused to shake his head.

“Come ‘is night ‘ey won’t be all ‘at close.” Gray answered. “Swan will ei’er have ‘eir attention, or ‘e whores will. An’ it’d be a good, hard ride away.”

Flagoon glanced at Mad Dog.

The insane man was gnawing on what had once been a rabbit... maybe. He didn’t seem the least bit uneasy about what was proposed. Of course, Mad Dog was happy as long as blood and fucking was involved.

When he looked back, Gray was watching him with those emotionless eyes. It was in that moment Flagoon knew that the only choice left to him was deciding how he would die. So, he shrugged. “We all go ‘o hell. Long as ah get ‘o blow ‘ings up.”

Gray actually smiled.

Funny, how a smile was a lot more frightening than anything else.

~~~~~

Captain Wright and his Cavalry arrived at the Crossroads just after mid-day, looking tired and hungers and restless. But if they had been looking forward to a fight, they were far too late. With not much to do, Wright set most of his men about canvassing the surrounding area for any who might have gotten away in the night and the rest he charged with grave digging.

Chris and Judge Travis walked down the street, watching as soldiers dragged away the last remains of the fight. Neither man spoke, mostly because there wasn’t much to say, but also because Travis knew, despite the lore, killing didn’t come easy to Larabee. 

It’s what made a gunfighter like Chris Larabee a hero and not a villain.

It had taken the rest of the night to get the fire under control. They had lost the barn and one of the wagons, but everything else had suffered no more than some bullet holes. Okay, a lot of bullet holes. They had lost two people, a few others had taken bullet wounds, two burns, and countless minor cuts from shattered glass and flying wood chips.

Granny Westcott had earned herself an even higher status among her people when, as the grenade rolled across the floor, she didn’t hesitate to throw herself on it, planning to shield them from its blast. When it didn’t go off, she filled her people with a rage and confidence that sent them after their attackers with a fervor that impressed even Westpoint toughened Captain Wright.

All in all, it was a win.

If only Chris could shake the feeling that it wasn’t over yet.

“Chris.” Vin called as he walked up to him, his rifle cradled in his arms, constantly at the ready. “No top hat.”

Chris found his gut tightening. “The bastard got away.”

“Or was never here.” Josiah offered as he, Buck, Nathan, and Granny Westcott stepped out of the tavern to join them. “If he was never here, Chris...”

“Then he went on to Four Corners.” Travis finished. “After Mary and JD and Ezra.”

“Well, shit.” Vin found himself growling. “’Siah, help me wrangle our horses.” He and the Preacher hurried off at a jog. 

“I wanna get back to the kid just as much as any of you,” Buck spoke up, “but what about the folks here, Chris?”

Travis shook his head over the concern. “Captain Wright will stay and patrol the area, make sure you got them all.”

“Ah, honey, there sure as hell not a shrinking violet in this bunch.” Granny assured. “Don’t you worry none about us. Go and rain all hell fire on the bastard who’s brought them damn grenades around.” 

Chris glanced at Nathan who answered his unspoken question “Wounded are gonna be fine... And I’ll come back with the refugees in a couple days and check up on them.” 

Then Chris glanced at Buck, eyeing the bandage wrapped around his head.

Little self conscious, Buck dropped his hat on his head. “I’m fine. And I’m going!” he ended all protest to the contrary right then and there.

Granny actually chuckled. “Hell hath no furry like Mama Buck goin’ after his cub.”

That earned a chuckle from even Chris. The usual stoic leader of the Seven stepped forward and offered Granny Westcott a kiss on the cheek. “Ma’am, you are an inspiration.” he told her, then he stepped back. “Let’s ride!” He turned to hurry where Vin and Josiah were leading their mounts.

Both Travis and Nathan nodded their appreciation to the woman and followed.

Buck actually felt himself choke up. Turning to face her, he stumbled out “Well.... Granny... been fun...”

“Buck Wilmington.” she cut him off and tapped her cheek with one finger.

The big man grinned. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then spun about. But he hadn’t taken a step before he felt a hearty slap to his butt cheek.

Granny Westcott whistled. “Don’t you forget now, Bucko, free ride for every ass you saved... and I don’t like owing, so you get yourself back here just as soon as Mr. Tophat’s in the ground. You hear?”

Buck actually blushed at the hoots and catcalls coming from Granny’s people as he mounted up.

Chris smirked at his long time friend. “Sure you can sit the saddle after that?” he teased.

“Oh, shut up!” Buck huffed and lead the way back home.

~~~~~~~~~~


	10. Chapter Ten

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Ten

~~~~~

Mary sat watching JD in his corner, feeling her heart just ache for him. She wanted to take him in her arms and rock him to sleep as if he was her own young son. But she knew that JD hadn’t just suffered a nightmare that was easily chased away with a little light and a mother’s lullaby.

Still there was so much in a hug. Protection and encouragement, sympathy and love, reassurance and just, simple warmth. So much she wanted to offer poor JD.

If only he would allow her close enough to wrap her arms around him, to hold him.

“Mary.” Ezra said softly as he stepped into the room. He set a hand on her shoulder, a sign of how much stress he was under. Ezra didn’t like to touch, to be touched. Liked to keep everyone at arms length.

She looked up at him, reaching up to take his hand. “He’s the same.” she answered his unasked question. “Maybe you can talk him into some more broth tonight.” she suggested hopefully.

Ezra smiled slightly. “Wasn’t exactly talking him into anything. I distracted his conscious mind so that his instinct and a hungry stomach was free to act.” When her eyes began to drop, hope fading, he quickly added “Perhaps it will work again. We’ll give it a try.” After all, he already had a mug of broth in his hand.

Mary smiled, hope returning. “Would you like me to stay? You should try to get some sleep yourself. You look worn out.” she offered.

The gambler did his best to stand a little straighter, a little more dignified. “I will have you know, madam, that I have never looked ‘worn out.’” He said the last two words with the just the right amount of disdain that one could almost see it dripping.

Mary actually laugh. “Fine, Mr. Standish, you look like... crap!” she retorted.

Ezra put on his best hurt expression. “Why, I never...” He allowed himself a chuckle at the play as he limped over to the bars and looked in on their boy.

Mary grew somber again, watching him limp. “Really, Ezra, you should get some rest. Get that foot of yours up for awhile. It wasn’t too long ago that that was broken.” She nodded to the foot of concern.

“I remember. I was there, you know.” Ezra glanced down at his booted foot. Fact was all he really wanted just right then was to put his foot up and down a very good bottle of mind numbing, not to mention numbing a lot of other things, whiskey. And then he looked up at JD.

The boy was looking at him, watching. Their eyes met for just the briefest of moments, before JD quickly turned his head back to the wall, breaking off contact.

Ezra sighed. “No, thank you, my dear lady.” he breathed, turning back to Mary. He smiled his best. “I will prevail over these hard times as long as I have a comfortable chair and a fine deck of cards.” He produced his ever present deck from some hidden away pocket.

Mary rose to her feet and stepped over to him. “You are a good man, Ezra Standish. A scoundrel and conman... but a good man.”

Ezra frowned. “Artist... that’s con ARTIST.” he corrected. “What I do can only be described as art.” But then he reassured her “Mr. Larabee and the others will be home soon. I promise that I will be one with my bed for sometime after.”

Mary’s smile was soft and motherly. “I will hold you to it.” She rested a hand on his chest as she leaned to the side and looked passed him to their boy. “Good night, JD. Remember: we love you and we’re here for you.” She had said that to him every night in what seemed forever. It was all she had to offer him, to comfort him. She hoped, prayed even, that someday he would accept the love and comfort.

When there was no reaction, she gave a sad sigh and backed away. Grabbing her shawl from the back of the chair, she said her good nights to Ezra then made her way to the front of the office. Like the night before, Mr. Donalds was waiting outside to walk her home. 

There were few words exchanged as they walked: “Air’s chilly tonight,” “Quiet night,” sort of things. Mary felt a little guilty for not asking about his wife and children, but she was too preoccupied with her own family. she worried for Ezra nearly as much as she worried for JD. After all, Ezra had been beaten within a breath of his life. And it wasn’t just him. Josiah was snapping at people, always preoccupied with how to save JD and, by doing so, regain some hope for his poor sister. Chris had withdrawn to his angry place which wasn’t good for anyone. Buck was wringing his hands in helplessness. And Vin and Nathan seemed to spend their time just looking at each other, hoping the other could tell him how to help.

The brothers were a mess! What they all needed was some time away from worrying about everyone else so they could just worry about each other. Go fishing or hunting or just go hermit themselves away for a few days out at Chris’ ranch.

There was an idea! And just as soon as they had settled things with Swan, Mary was going to suggest it! Insist on it! Four Corners could look after themselves for a few days. They weren’t completely helpless.

Turning to her door and opening it, she looked up at her escort with a new smile. “Thank you, Mr. Donalds. You’re very kind.”

But the man stared at her with wide eyed horror.

Mary blinked in surprise. “Mr. Donalds? Rick?”

His head flopped back, revealing the deep slash across his neck, blood gushing down his front. He began to fall forward.

Mary jumped back, opening her mouth to scream, but an arm wrapped around her waist from behind, a hand clamping over her mouth.

“’Ey, now, chicky, ye ain’t gonna wanna do ‘at now, an’ spoil all our alone time.” cooed a cockney accent in her ear.

With terror gripping her heart, Mary watched as a man wearing a muzzle and carrying a bloody knife, dragged Donalds’ body into her home. Then she was carried in after and the door closed, locking her away from any rescue, any salvation.

~~~~~

JD tried not to listen to him, but that soft voice just kept worming his way through his brain. And it wasn’t like what Ez was saying was unpleasant on its own.

Antidotes and adventures, tall tales and shared moments... All painted a pretty picture.

But it was just a picture... a picture of a life JD no longer knew, no longer remembered as being his. Every time he thought he did remember something, every time he reached back, trying to grasp the memory, it was ripped away from him by a violent fist knocking him to the floor, hands taring at his skin, pain and fear and anger and shame and guilt and horror and...

And he just didn’t want to remember any more, not anything! He just didn’t!

But Ezra kept talking, with a chuckle here and there, accenting a story or a “remember that time...” Ezra had dragged the chair into the cell with him. He took up residency at the foot of JD’s cot and rested his hurt foot on the chair. He absently played with his cards after asking JD to hold onto his mug for him.

JD knew the trick now, though. He left the mug where Ez had put it, right between his feet, and tucked his hands under his arms so they wouldn’t move on their own, betraying him.

It seemed like hours, before Ezra’s chatting finally died out and he sat there, watching JD as he rubbed his foot. 

The boy almost dropped his head in relief when he realized the stories must have ran out.

But, after a long, silent moment Ezra said “I am ashamed.”

JD’s eyes snapped to him in surprise.

Ezra shrugged. “I have been amiss in thanking you.” he told him.

JD frowned, looked confused.

Ezra continued: “You saved my life... twice on that day. Though I remember only snippets of events, our brothers in arms were sure to tell the tale. If it had not been for your interference, I would have ended there, that night. But you, despite your own predicament, drew the murderous intentions away from myself and onto your own being.” He paused as if wondering speaking this wasn’t a mistake. “At great peril to yourself, a great, horrific sacrifice that I can not possibly repay nor repair, you saved my life.”

JD blinked at him.

And Ezra still continued. “And then, wounded and in desperate pain, you returned and saved me yet again. You freed yourself from what horrors had befallen you and exited that hell with such fury that no evil entity could stand before your wrath and survive. And, again, you saved me!” As if in prayer, Ezra clasped his hands together before him, and humbly bowed his head toward his savior. “And I thank you. I know there are no adequate words to do the task, but I, none the less, do my best to express my gratitude: John Daniels Dunne, thank you for my life!”

JD stared at him, stunned. He hadn’t remembered why he had been dragged into that barn nor why he had come out alive. But, suddenly, he remembered. Remembered it all. It made him ach and his head swim, and, for the longest time, all he could manage was just breathing. And, then, finally, he had to admit in a shame filled whisper “It had been an accident.”

Ezra blinked at him. “What?” he asked, a little unsure of what he had heard.

JD swallowed hard and gathered his shattered courage. “It had been an accident.” he said louder, “When I killed Danny-Boy.”

Ezra leaned back, startled by the declaration. “Indeed? How so?”

JD dropped his eyes and licked his lips. Slowly he started: “Billy was stupid. He fell asleep. Danny-Boy thought he could hold me himself if he... if he put my legs up... But I couldn’t... I just couldn’t... not again...” He began to shake and he grabbed the mug before it sloshed. Giving himself a moment, he took a gulp of the broth, before continuing. “He’d hobbled me... my legs... so, when I rolled, when I tried to get away... the hobble.... the rope twisted around his neck. He was hitting my legs, but I didn’t know... or I didn’t understand... he couldn’t breath! All I knew was he couldn’t get any closer! If I held my legs tight, stretched out... he couldn’t... he couldn’t do.... that to me... not again!” Another pause, another gulp, as if the broth was suddenly liquid courage. “He fought, but I fought harder. He hit me and bit... I remember him biting my foot... I remember the blood running down his chin... but it was nothing.... nothing, I knew, compared to what he’d do if I let him go... And, then... he just... stopped...” Pause and gulp. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I wanted to! I just... I...” He glanced up at his friend, hoping a look would express what he meant. 

Ezra was staring at him and he knew it was in shock and horror.

JD had to drop his eyes and take another gulp. With a shaky breath, he explained “I don’t remember much after that... kinda. It’s all like... I don’t know, like remembering a dream... Billy Club slept through the whole thing... right up until I... I cut him!” The last was ground out through clenched teeth and JD flexed his hand, feeling the knife and the blood again. “And then I was... I was just killing... killing everyone.... I had to end it! I had to make sure it never happened again! I just.... I just had to!” Again he looked up at Ezra, desperate for understanding. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t save you! I didn’t save anyone! I just killed and killed and killed... and then... I could feel it all... their blood... my blood... the sweat and the...” He blanched at saying that other word.

“Cum.” Ezra supplied.

JD gasped at hearing it spoken. He hid his face in the wall, trying to hide his shame. “I can’t wash it off.” he whispered, more to himself than Ezra. “I try and try, but it just won’t come off...”

Ezra reached out and laid a hand on JD’s knee. When the boy’s eyes jerked up and locked with his own, Ezra spoke more honest than he had ever in his life: “John, you are not dirty. I promise you, you are the cleanest, most innocent soul I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. And you did save me! You saved us all! You never have to apologize to anyone for anything that happened that day!” He shook his head. “I am so sorry that I could not save you from that. I’m sorry for what they did to you and I wish I could make it all go away. But I can’t. All I can do is be here with you... and to fight to get you back.”

JD blinked at him. He blinked again. He glanced down at the empty mug in his hands. “You really want me back... what’s left of me?”

“John, look at me.”

Those glistening hazel eyes looked up again.

Ezra smiled, opened his mouth to answer.

Suddenly an explosion sounded, shaking the entire building.

~~~~~~~~~~


	11. Chapter Eleven

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Eleven

~~~~~

“Oh, hell!” Ezra cursed, knowing instantly what it had been. He was leaping across the cell and out the door in a heart beat.

The door to the street and been blown off its hinges, shattered bits of smoking wood embedded in the desks and walls. Brilliant light flickered through the shattered window of the office, a bonfire in the middle of the street directly in front of the building. 

Ezra snatched his gun from its holster and skidded to the floor just below the window. Carefully he peeked up.

Three men stood about the fire: a man wearing a muzzle, crouching over a body; a teller man actually juggling what looked like more grenades; and Tophat man who, at his feet with his fist tangled in bunches of blond hair, held Mary Travis. 

The woman’s hands were tied before her and her torn skirt revealed bare feet and hobbled ankles. Her face was hidden behind her fallen hair, But Ezra could imagine the bruises and cuts and everything else he had sen on the faces of victims of this damn gang.

“Mary...” Ezra gasped, the real urge to come out shooting, chances be damned, rising up in his gut. But he fought it down. He had to think! If he was gonna get anyone out of this alive, he had to think!

Damn, where was Chris and the boys?!   
He needed them!  
He needed them right now!  
He was no good at this!  
He was just a gambler!  
Best thing he was good at was getting his ass kicked and his friends raped!

“Mary!” came a little gasp across the door from him.

Ezra looked to see JD crouched beside the doorway, peeking out as he belted on his gun belt. He didn’t whether to be relieved or twice as panicked. 

After all, the kid had been wanting this: a gun fight, one that would kill him!

But it wasn’t the hurt, fragile hazel eyes that looked across to him. They were hard, clear, determined when he asked “How we gonna get her back?”

Ezra bit his lip, eyeing the boy. He jerked his chin to his gun belt. “That thing loaded this time? Because, JD, this isn’t your life... or even mine. It’s Mary’s life!”

JD’s eyes narrowed. “They ain’t gonna touch her again! If I gotta go through hell all over, they ain’t doin’ that to Mary!” he swore.

Ezra believed him. He wasn’t sure what the kid would do once Mary was safe, but, until then, he was in this to win. The gambler took a deep breath and steadied himself. “You see anymore of them? Just the three?”

JD dared a peek again. “Uh-uh.... is that bastard juggling grenades? Are they all fuckin’ insane?!” he hissed.

“Yes.” was Ezra’s cold, hard truth answer.

Further discussion was interrupted by the juggler as he turned away from them so he could announce to the citizens of the town who had started to make an appearance: “Ladies a’ Lords, ‘o us the favor of ‘ust ‘teppin’ back in a’ shuttin’ yer ‘oors. Better yet, ‘o sweet Mrs. Travis the favor...” He waved a hand at the woman.

Tophat jerked her head up.

Mary’s face was bruised and smeared. Tears streamed down her cheeks even as she did her best to glare up at her tormentors. Her jaw seemed swollen on both sides and her lips pressed hard together. Trickles of blood seeped from her lips where dark lines zigzagged up and down across them...

“My god... they’ve sewn her mouth shut.” Ezra exclaimed, nearly rising to his feet right then and there.

“Now we ‘ave no issue wi’ ye folk.” Juggler continued. “Soons we ‘ave our ‘ue, ye all can ‘ave yer pretty lady back. But... I see one o’ ye, a’... POP.... goes her pretty, wee hea’!”

“What does he mean... pop?” JD demanded of his partner. “What’d they do to her? What’d they sewn up in her mouth...?”

“A grenade.” Ezra breathed in disbelief. “They’ve sewn a grenade in her mouth.” He nearly collapsed on the floor in shock and dismay.

He can’t do this!  
He wasn’t the man for this!  
What the fuck was he supposed to do?!

Ezra closed his eyes against the panic only to get bombarded by flashes of a beating, fists punching, boots kicking, yelling and cursing and threats and pain and blackness and...

“Ez!... Hey, Ezra!” JD hissed.

He opened his eyes to look at the boy who, only moments before, had been the one curled up in a corner unable to face the world. 

Now JD looked at him with concern and no small amount of fear. “You okay?”

Ezra took another breath, another moment to steady himself, before admitting “I am afraid, Mr. Dunne, that you are not the only one to suffer the after effects of a violent attack.”

JD blinked at him. Then suggested “Do what you told me to do: pick your details and focus on them. You can do this, Ez! You’re good at this stuff!”

Ezra almost laughed at the encouragement. 

The Juggler turned his attention back to the sheriff’s office. “Alrighty, lads, come out, come out, where ever ye are... time to play!” he sang.

Ezra took another look. 

Details!  
Focus on the details!

Guns were easy. It was the grenades and the brutality of the three men that would be the challenge.

Juggler seemed completely at ease handling the small, iron balls. Was he insanely stupid, or was he smart enough to be making a show with grenades that were, actually, harmless?

There was a long cord... fuse?... hanging from Mary’s lips to the hand of Tophat.

Vin had said grenades usually worked by pulling the sting, lighting an internal fuse... That cord must be the quick switch... but she was far to close to Tophat for him to avoid being hurt in the blast... wasn’t he?

The body Muzzle was still beating on... could that be the murderer Captain Wright spoke of... was a bloody mess, but he was still fully clothed. He hadn’t been searched or, otherwise, molested then.

“Is that Mr. Allen under that monstrous muzzled character?” he asked for confirmation.

“Yea... yea, think so.”

Made sense, Ezra thought, since that was the man who was supposed to be on rounds with Mr. Donalds. 

Again a deep breath, this one deeper and stronger. Ezra shook his arm, freeing his derringer. The tiny, two-shot gun fell into the palm of his hand, fitting perfectly. A trust worthy old friend that had been there for him in the most dreadful of times, saving his life when no other could. He truly regretted giving it up. “JD, tuck this away easy to reach.” he ordered, sliding it across the floor.

JD frowned at him, but slipped the tiny weapon up his sleeve. “You got a plan?” 

“Unfortunately.” Ezra admitted. “If we go out fighting, Mary will be dead and we will follow. We have to get out among them, get them away from Mary. Thus... we are going to give ourselves up.”

“What?!” JD cried, but Ezra had already stood up and stepped out the door.

“You have out witted us, you vile villain!” Ezra announced. “Thus, you give us little choice, but to surrender! Let the woman go.”

“Vile?” the juggler snatched the grenades out of the air and stuffed them in his pockets. “’On’t know what ‘at means. Kin’a like ‘e sound of it, ‘ough. What ye ‘ink, Mad Dog?”

Muzzle suddenly leaped on Ezra, grabbing him by the shirt front and spinning hima bout, throwing him to the ground beside his last victim. With a snarl, he leaped after, landing on the gambler’s legs with fist raised, poised to began the beating. 

“Hey! Stay away from him!” JD yelled stepping out after. He stopped cold when everyone else stopped and looked at him.

Mary managed a muffled cry through her bloody lips.

Tophat waved to Juggler. “Flagoon, take ‘e bitch!” he snarled the order. “’At boyo is mine!”

Flagoon hurried to take Tophat’s place, taking Mary up by a fist full of hair.

JD stiffened as he watched his nightmare walk towards him.

He was older, leaner, taller, made even more so by the black, dusty top hat, but the man was a spitting image of his brothers, Billy Club and Danny-Boy. And he was coming right for JD.

The boy’s mind screamed at him to run, to hide, to do anything but stand there. But his body wouldn’t move. Besides, where would he go? His world was suddenly limited to that man and the few breaths between them.

Tophat took JD’s guns without any resistance, and threw them aside. “Ye know who I am, boyo?” he snarled.

JD just stared at him.

“Names Gregory Gray.” He grabbed JD by the throat in one heavy hand and drew him close. “Ye got ta know me brothers right well, I hear.”

JD shivered when the man’s hot breath seemed to burn his skin. He couldn’t help but bring his hands up to try and push away.

Gray looked down at the hands and chuckled. “Really, now? Is ‘at the fight yer gonna give?” He stepped even closer. “I’m gonna ben’ ye over the hitchin’ post a’ fuck ye so all can see the bitch ye are.” he hissed.

“JD!” Ezra yelled, kicking out at Mad Dog and scrambling back over Allen’s body. He snatched at Allen’s boot, tugging and pulling at it. “JD, now!” he yelled, hoping, praying his words would cut through the terror that was so obviously overtaking the boy.

JD brought his knee up sharp, striking Gray in the crotch.

With a grunt, Gray released his hold and took a step back.

Just enough for JD to twist away and extend his arm, pointing at Flagoon. 

The little pop almost didn’t sound like a gun shot. Flagoon would have laughed at the funny little sound if it hadn’t been for the punch to his chest. Looking down he saw a tiny hole in his shirt, blood seeping out. His fingers suddenly felt numb. He could see the woman falling at his feet, freed from his grip. Then his knees buckled and he was falling, dead before he hit the ground.

Ezra cried out as Mad Dog slammed a heavy boot down on his barely healed foot. Rolling off of Allen, Ezra slashed with the dead man’s boot knife, sending his attacker yelping back in surprise. Scrambling back, the gambler managed to keep the muzzled man at bay long enough to climb to his feet. Hobbling on one leg, he kept swinging, hoping beyond hope he could keep the beast at bay long enough for... for something to happen.

JD began to turn toward Ezra’s cry, the little gun searching for Mad Dog.

But Gray grabbed him from behind with a fist full of hair in one hand, his punching JD’s shoulder so that his shot went wild. With a growl, he threw the boy down on the boardwalk, relishing the solid whack that came from JD’s forehead bouncing off the hard wood. “Ye worthless piece of shit! Ye ‘ink ‘at’s gonna make a difference?” He pounced, landing on JD’s back just as the boy was starting to get up, again, bouncing his head off the wood. He tugged at the back of JD’s belt. “I’m gonna fuck ye raw, ye bitch! Fuckin’ whore!”

“Get the hell off of him!” Ezra screamed, throwing his only weapon.

It was the perfect knife to be thrown, but Ezra had had lots of practice improvising. The blade struck, sinking in to the meaty part of Gray’s shoulder.

With a roar, the man rose up off of JD and stumbled back into the street, clutching at the knife.

No longer armed, Ezra was once more at the mercy of Mad Dog. With an inhuman snarl, the man lunged, fingers stretched out, grabbing fistfulls of what every he could grab, and ripping it away.

Already off balance by his wounded foot, Ezra went down under the onslaught. He tried to block the blows, but Mad Dog was so enraged that he struck like three men, hitting, kicking, ripping.... All Ezra could do was roll on his stomach and try to protect his head from the worse of the blows.

JD scrambled to his feet and started to make a run for Ezra and his attacker.

But, again, Gray was there. The big Brit stood just off the boardwalk, cutting him off. Grinding his teeth, he reached up, grabbed the knife, and yanked it out of his own shoulder. “Ye don’t know what ye did, boyo. I was gonna let ye live... what was left of ye anyhow... but now... now I’m gonna fuck ye to dea’! A’ yer buddy-boyo ‘ere...” He glanced over his shoulder and snapped “Mad Dog!”

The beast actually paused in his beating to whine at his owner. 

“Fuck ‘im!” came the sharp command.

With giggling glee, Mad Dog continued his rampaging, though his attack was aimed decidedly below the belt.

“Stop!” JD cried out, taking a step toward the assault.

Gray stepped to one side, blocking him again. Then he took a couple steps back, giving the boy room to step down into the street.

JD hesitated, glancing from the downed Ezra to Gray and back again. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and it came away bloody. Grinding his teeth he looked at Gray again and took the step down to the dirt of the street. He doubled up his fists. “I never stopped fighting. I will never stop fighting.” he warned Gray. “I killed Billy and Danny because they were sick bastards that needed to be put down. And I’ll see you dead for the same reason.”

Gray smiled. “So... the pup ‘oes ‘ave a bark. Let’s see if’n ‘e ‘as a bite to go along wi’ it.” He held the knife before him. “’ope ye not be expecting the Queenbury’s rules. Never was one fer rules.”

“Welcome to America, you dumb fuck! We got no Queen!” JD snapped, then lunged forward, swinging his fist out. Just as Gray moved to block it, JD spun around his arm and struck with a fist to his kidney. Then he was spinning away and out of reach again, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he’d seen Buck do in a ring fight.

Gray gasped from the unexpected strike. Hand to his kidney, knife held out before him, he watched the boy with a new found amusement.   
Kid knew a thing or two about fighting.  
This was gonna be interesting.

Again JD was coming at him. The boy swung a fist one way, but bounced the other, spun around behind Gray, and slammed his elbow in his unprotected ribs, before jumping back and away.

Gray stumbled forward, pretending that it hurt more than it had. Truth was, the kid didn’t have the reach to put much power behind an elbow blow. If he was smart, he’d stay close and keep pounding away with those sharp little fists. But let him bounce around, feel like he was winning, feel confident and hopeful... And then Gregory Gray would have his due!

Ezra gasped for breath. His attacker seemed to be alternating between pounding on his ribs and trying to chew through the back of his belt. He had some vague idea of what the beast was trying to do, but everything was becoming muddled and foggy, and, Ezra knew, he was losing!

Stay moving, strike fast and hard. That’s what Chris had taught JD.   
He’s little, so he’s faster then big lugs. That’s what Vin had taught JD.  
Aim for the sensitive spots, the kidney, eyes, joints. That’s what Nathan had taught JD.  
Leave mercy to God is what Josiah taught him.  
And do it with a smile, it’ll confuse the crap out of them is what Buck taught JD.  
Focus! That’s what Ezra taught JD.

But JD had barely eaten or drank anything in days. He was exahausted, both body and mind, and he was having trouble keeping any of those lessons in mind as he bounced around, desperately trying to stay out of reach of that knife.

And, then it happened. 

He bounced within reach, spun about, swung a fist...

And Gray caught it!

With a growl and a twist, Gray stepped in even closer, twisting the caught hand back and up, until he had it pinned up JD’s back. The knife came up in his other hand, the sharp point, already sticky with Gray’s own blood, poking at the underside of JD’s jaw.

“I ‘ad enough o’ ‘at!” he breathed into JD’s face. He jerked the boy forward until he was pressed against his chest. The tip of the knife dug into his throat, drawing a tricking of blood the ran down JD’s neck. “Maybe I’ll ‘ust kill ye, a’ fuck yer bloody corpse. ‘On’t matter to me if’n yer warm or cold.”

JD went ridged in his arms. Despite being aware of his own weakness, he had no idea how he had ended up here.   
He had been fighting.  
He had never stopped fighting.  
Now he was caught in the arms of his nightmare, a knife digging a hair’s breath of a push from ending his life.  
He was going to die!  
He was going to lose his life!

And what life!  
He had come out west to be a gunfighter.  
Found out what it was really like to be a man who happened to fight with guns.  
He had found six big brothers who taught him everything about life, from living to loving to killing to, maybe, even dying.  
He had learned honor and justice.  
He had laughed and he had cried.   
He had seen puma tracks and card tricks.  
He had experienced heartache and family dinners.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mary laying in the dirt, watching helplessly as her family was being butchered in front of her. She whimpered through the stitches, tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes wide with fear. 

Gray saw the flicker of his eye and followed his look. Grinning, he leaned harder on the knife. “After I fuck ye, I’m gonna go see to ‘at bitch. Yet to hear her scream. Wonder what it’s sound like.”

And, suddenly, and very desperately, he didn’t want to die!

JD stepped forward, dragging the heal of his boot down the inside of Gray’s leg while his free hand came up inside his knife arm and slammed the weapon away, leaving a gash across his neck, under his jaw.   
A gash.  
But not a life ending slice!

Gray howled with a mixture of rage and pain as he threw JD away from him. Hopping back on his hurt leg, he cursed at the top of his lungs “Ye son of a whore bitch!” he roared. He raised the knife and lunged forward. “Ye ‘ink some’ings gonna save ye? Who’d saved ye last time? Who ye ‘inks gonna save ye ‘is time?” 

Shots exploded through the air. 

Gregory Gray was spun away from JD, before another bullet struck, then another. The murderer gave a roar, knife held up before another bullet finally threw him back into the dirt, dead.

Chris and Buck pulled up their horses on either side of the body. Buck leaned over his saddle and told the dead man “We’re gonna save him, you fuckin’ prick!”

Mad Dog stopped his attack to stare at his fallen master. Then, with a snarl, he leaped from Ezra, running towards the closest of the mounted men.

“Chris!” Vin yelled out a warning even as he threw his rifle to his shoulder and fired.

Mad Dog struck the ground and slid in the dirt just close enough to make Chris’ mount whinny and side stepped away from the dead man.

Chris looked around him quickly. “Was that it? Was there any more of them? JD?... JD!”

The boy shook his head, but otherwise didn’t answer.

Chris turned in his saddle. “Ezra?”

“No.” came a gasped answer as Ezra dragged himself up to sit on a step up to the boardwalk. “We only saw those three.”

The leader of the Seven wasn’t satisfied. “Buck, start knocking on doors. Make sure we’re clear. Vin...”

“Mary!” Travis cried as he practically fell from his mount.

“Wait!” Ezra called out to him. “Vin, that bastard stitched a grenade in her mouth. You have to be careful!”

Nathan was already at her side, his kit in hand. “Vin, could use your help.” he called over his shoulder in a steady, calm voice. To the traumatized woman, he assured “Don’t worry, Mary. We got you now.” He cut her hands and legs free, all the while talking softly to her.

Travis crouched down beside her, taking her hands in his own. “Dear lord, Mary, what did they do to you?”

JD’s mind seemed to be in a frozen state. He could see everything that was happening... people starting to come out onto the street, now it seemed safe; Chris barking orders; Nathan doing his healing thing; Vin doing his grenade thing; Josiah standing over Ezra, who waved away his concern; Buck organizing a bucket birgade to put out the bonfire; four bodies laying in the dirt... 

“JD?” Chris spoke almost softly. Still sitting astride his horse, he had edged closer to his youngest and out of the way of the townspeople hauling buckets. “JD, are you alright?” he asked.

JD looked up at him, then pass him to where Gray laid. “Is he dead?” he asked, his voice so quiet, Chris almost couldn’t hear. 

Chris glanced at the body. “That is dead as can be.” he assured.

“And.... and Swan... the rest of the gang?” 

Chris looked down at JD again, seeing big, watery eyes and trembling hands. “They’re done, JD. All gone. It’s over.” he quickly assured.

“Chris, I have a very live grenade here.” Vin called as he backed away from Mary, an explosive egg in his hands. “What would ya like me to do with it?”

Chris snapped about in his saddle. “Well, I would be very happy if you didn’t blow it up!” he snapped. He was also very happy to see Nathan and Travis already moving Mary across the street and away from danger. “How do you kill one of those things?”

“Carefully.” was Vin’s not so cool answer.

“Well, then, I would like you to be careful with the damn thing!”

Buck came up beside Vin with a bucket of water that had been intended for the bonfire. “I got ya, buddy. What say you dunk that little critter right in here?!” he suggested.

Vin took a deep breath and lowered the grenade into the water.When he pulled his hands out, he waited... waited... let his breath out in a long sigh. “That should keep her quiet... I think...”

Buck gave him a nervous smile. “Care for a moonlit stroll... say to just outside of town?”

Vin gave his head one shake, yet answered with “Long as ya’re the one carrying the picnic basket.” He glanced up at Chris. “We’ll be back soon... hopefully.”

Chris watched the two for a moment walk slowly, very carefully, towards the edge of town, the townspeople giving them a wide berth. Releasing his own held breath, he turned his attention back to JD... who was now gone. “What the hell...”

Josiah pushed pass his horse. “What’d you say to him?” he growled, but he didn’t wait for answer, as he stomped into the Sheriff’s office.

“What’d I... nothing!” Chris cried after him. 

~~~~~

JD had found himself back in his cell. He didn’t go to his corner though. He just stared at it. 

That wasn’t his corner any more. That was the place where he sat and waited for it to all end. And he couldn’t do that now. 

Not now.

Something dripped on his hand. He looked down and saw blood.

His blood!

He was bleeding!

JD snatched a towel from the cot and wiped at his forehead. The towel came away red with blood. Panic gripped him and he started to scrub at his head, trying to wipe away all the blood. But the cut from when his head bounced against the boardwalk just continued to bleed. 

“No, no, no...” JD groaned, feeling helpless and lost.

“John?” 

JD spun about to see Josiah standing at the door of the cell.

Josiah, big, protective, with eyes filled with concern, took a step toward the boy. “John, what are you...” He was forced back a step as suddenly, JD threw himself against the big man, burring his face in his chest and sobbing. 

For a moment, Josiah just stood there, staring in shock at the boy who had never cried after the rape, after all the horrors done to him. But, now... finally...

Josiah wrapped his arms around JD and held on tight. “It’s alright, John, I’ve got you now. You’re gonna be fine.” He glanced over his shoulder as Chris hurried in after him, but it was JD he still soothed “You’re gonna be just fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~


	12. Finale

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Twelve

~~~~~

It was mid-morning when Nathan appeared in the door of the cell, his kit in hand. He found himself stopped and appreciating the view.

Josiah was sitting on the cot, his head leaned back against the wall, eyes close. JD was stretched out beside him, his head resting in the big man’s lap, sleeping soundly. Not even a twitch between them.

Chris stepped in beside him, sipping at a mug of coffee. “Something, ain’t it.” he observed in hushed tones.

Nathan glanced up at him. “How long...”

“He cried himself to sleep a few hours back. Josiah kept talking to him a little while longer before he passed out.” Chris paused to yawn. “Speaking of passing out...”

Nathan nodded. “Go see Mary first. She’ll want to hear he’s sleeping.”

“After.” Chris leaned against the bars and took another sip of coffee.

“After?” Nathan looked up at him.

“After you wake him up and take a look at him.” He tapped the underside of his jaw where JD had been cut. “Josiah cleaned him up mostly, but I’d sleep better knowing you could get a look at him.”

“Knowing he’s alright or that he’ll let me?” 

Chris shrugged. “One in the same, ain’t it?” He nodded purposefully to the sleeping boy.

Nathan took a deep breath. “After, then... then you sleep.”

Chris held his mug up in acknowledgment.

Nathan stepped over and crouched down in front of them.

Josiah’s eyes opened instantly at his approached. “Hey.” he mouthed, but made no sound.

Nathan raised an eyebrow at him. “You got him to sleep.” 

Josiah smiled down at the boy in his lap. “He did all the work.”

Nathan returned the smile before turning his attention to JD. “Hey, kiddo, come on. Wake up for me, JD.” As soon as he touched the boy’s shoulder, JD snapped awake, grabbing at Josiah’s knee.

“Easy.” Josiah was quick to lean over and comfort him. “It’s alright, it’s just Nathan.” He rubbed JD’s shoulders until began to relax again.

Nathan waited for JD to calm down before he spoke again. “Hi there, JD, how you doin’?” he asked gently.

JD blinked at him and sniffed. After a few breaths, he whispered “Hey... Nathan...” He pushed himself up into a sitting position, but quickly closed his eyes and hissed, a hand going to his head.

“Hey, yourself.” Nathan hesitated to reach for him again. “Head hurts? Ez said you bounced off the walk a time or two.” 

With a groan, JD dropped his head against Josiah’s side, leaning against the big man. 

Josiah adjusted his arm to drape it protectively around his shoulders. “Why don’t you let Brother Nathan take a look, work his wonder?” he suggested, giving JD a squeeze. 

The boy blinked up at him, then looked at Nathan. 

Nathan offered a smile. “May I?” he asked, holding his hand out.

A slight nod and a wince.

Nathan leaned forward, brushing his hair back to see the cut just in the hairline. “Well, that’s nothing. Bit of a headache. Ears ringing or any nausea?”

A shake of the head and a wince. 

Nathan ran his hand softly down the boy’s jaw, happily noting that JD didn’t flinch away. He lifted his head so he could see the gash under his jaw. “That, though, might need a little more care.” He turned to his kit and started to rummage inside.

“How’s Mary?” JD asked softly. He leaned forward. “Did they... I mean... was she hurt?”

Nathan glanced up sharply. He looked at Josiah, but only got the same concern. so he turned back to JD. “She’s fine, JD. A sore jaw for a few days, some bruises. But, no, they did not hurt her.” He glanced back at Chris, knowing the man was paying very close attention. “She was apparently promised to Flagoon, but after Gray got... what he wanted.”

“Me?” JD sank back against Josiah.

“He’s dead, JD.” Chris spoke up. “You don’t have to be afraid of him ever again!” he promised.

Again Josiah gave him a gentle squeeze. “We got you, little brother.” he practically cooed.

JD nodded slightly at that. Then he asked “And Ez? That... thing...?”

“Ez is just fine too.” Nathan assured. “That... thing is the best I can think to describe him... well, he banged Ezra up pretty good, clawed the hell out of his back and broke his foot all over again...”

Chris groaned. “Another two months of his wining?”

Nathan chuckled, looking back over his shoulder at their leader.”Well, not like we count on him for any real labor.” When he looked back, he was startled to see almost the twitch of a smile on JD’s lips. He quickly glanced up at Josiah who was watching his boy with wide eyes. He had seen it too!

The first almost genuine smile from him since the day they rode down on that way station so very long ago! 

Nathan leaned forward again, purposefully putting his hands on JD’s knees. 

The boy tensed, but didn’t flinch away. He met Nathan’s probing eyes with his glistening hazel eyes and for a moment they just looked at each other.

Then Nathan smiled. “You know what I think, JD? I think you are going to be just fine too.” And he meant it, for the first time in so very long, he knew.

~~~~~

Two weeks later at the Larabee Ranch...

“The Queensberry Rules of Boxing, gentlemen...” Ezra paused to glare at Buck who had Vin in some sort of head lock. “And I use the term loosely....”

Ezra sat on a bench just outside the newly built paddock across the yard from the house, a cane in one hand, which he tapped on a metal pan when he wanted attention. JD stood beside him, leaning against the fence, watching as Vin, Buck, Nathan, and Josiah all stood in the paddock, waiting like little children for the lesson to begin.

“Queen Berry?” JD frowned. “Never heard of her.”

“Not a her, kid.” Vin offered. He reached down, grabbed Buck’s ankle, and gave it just enough tug that it threw his opponent off balance and stumbling back to fall on his butt. “And not a queen.” He looked at Ezra like a star pupil, waiting for teacher to acknowledge that he was ahead of the class.

Ezra praise was light at best with a simple “Indeed.” He threw Buck an old stink eye as the man started a sneak approach on Vin, just daring to interrupt the lesson again. 

Buck did his very best to snap to attention without too much giggling.

Ezra’s eyes narrowed, but continued. “Young Mr. Dunne, the Marquess of Queensberry Rules are, perhaps, the only thing in this yard younger than yourself... and the fence, of course. They are a set of civilized rules....” Another quick glare, but this one at Vin who, taking advantage of his teacher’s pet assumption, stepped on Buck’s toe. “CIVILIZED rules! That instruct the sport of boxing that you must not fight simply to win; no holds barred is not the way; you must win by the rules... Oh, for crying out loud, gentlemen! I am trying to educate our young... Buck Wilmington! That is against the rules!”

Buck looked under Vin’s arm as he lifted his friend up off the ground in preparation to throw him. “So, what’s the rules already?”

Everyone looked at Ezra.

Ezra glared back. “Rule one: a fair stand-up boxing match should take place in a 24-foot ring, or as near that size as practicable. Since this paddock is all we are able to manage...” He paused to groan. “Mr. Sanchez... not you too.”

Bored with watching Vin and Buck having all the fun, Nathan had poked his opponent in the ribs. Being much bigger, Josiah’s response had been instant and merciless and he now held Nathan upside down by the ankles.

Josiah looked completely innocent as he quickly made the excuse “He started it!”

JD huffed, almost a laugh.

All tom foolery stopped for half a breath as all eyes turned to their boy. A long ways from joining in the roughhousing, JD wasn’t so far that he couldn’t find it all amusing.

Though, suddenly the center of attention stole his smile away, and he quickly dropped his eyes. A reminder that he was healing, but not yet healed. 

Ezra tapped his cane on his metal pan, bringing all eyes back to him. “Rule two: The rounds are to be of three minutes' duration, and one minute's time between rounds. This is to give the boxers time to evaluate their condition and stratagize... Nathan! Nathan!... RULE THREE: No wrestling or hugging allowed! Let him go! Dammit! He isn’t even your opponent!”

At least Nathan had the courtesy of looking shame faced as he sat up on Buck. Still he had to protest “I am not hugging him!” 

Buck managed to shrug. “I don’t mind. I like hugs.” 

JD chuckled.

Everyone was careful not to look this time.

“But hugs are not allowed... do any of you even care?” Ezra demanded in a huff.

“Course we do, Ez.” Vin assured. “We’re here to teach the kid a thing or two about boxing.” But then he promptly leaped off the fence onto Josiah’s back.

Ezra threw a hand in the air. “How is that boxing?” he almost wined.

The big man stumbled forward and started to spin around, trying to reach the young Texan who was holding on as if trying to tame a bronco.

JD hiccuped a laugh.

Desperate, Ezra banged like a mad man with his cane on his metal pan, sounding much like the bell in a boxing match. “That is against the rules! Go to your corners! Corners! No, no... Buck! A man on one knee is considered down and, if struck, is entitled to the stakes! He wins!”

Despite being face first in the dirt, Nathan threw up his hands with a triumphed, if somewhat muffled, shout “I win!”

Josiah stopped his spinning to throw Buck a glare. “Did you just lose it for us?”

Even Vin stopped at that, glaring over Josiah’s shoulder at his old nemesis. 

Buck looked back. “Was there a prize?” he wondered.

Suddenly, with a roar, Josiah shook violently, dropping Vin to the ground, and surging forward.

Buck showed what little good sense he had and turned tail and ran.

“No! Oh, for crying out loud, I give up on you... all barbaric, ass scratching, whiskey reeking... COWBOYS! Every one of you! You hear me? Cowboys!” Ezra yelled, but he couldn’t help the smile. It had been a long time since they all just had some fun.

And JD laughed. A musical sound not heard in far too long.

Which seemed to spur Buck on with his high kicking run as he whooped and cheered, dodging Josiah’s grab this way and that.

Nathan crawled over to where Vin was and sat in the dirt beside him. “Run, Buck, run!” he encouraged, then turned to Vin. “A dollar says Josiah throws him in the dung pile.”

Vin shook his hand on it, countering with “It’s the creak with him!”

Giving it all up, Ezra got in on it with “Water trough.”

Mary and her father-in-law stepped out of the house with Chris just in time to witness the dunking in the water trough and the paying up to a suddenly very pleased Ezra. And the whole scene serenaded with JD’s laughter.

Mary smiled. “Now, that is music to my ears.” she told the two men beside her. 

“It assuredly is.” Judge Travis agreed, smiling at the scene.

Chris crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the porch rail. “Well, still have a long ways to go, but we’re getting there. Have good days and bad days.” He too, had to smile. “This is definitely a good day.”

“And the bad?” Orrin Travis asked.

Chris took a deep breath. “Something will just catch him wrong and, no warning, he’s down. We get bits of the story then.” He had to pause to unclench his fists. But then he reminded both them and himself “The good times are beginning to outnumber the bad, though. Still have nightmares, but not every time he closes his eyes. He’s not eating as much as I’d like, but he is eating and he’s putting on some weight again. Still doesn’t like to be touched, but he doesn’t duck away anymore. And...” He waved a hand at the boy as he hung on the fence, laughing as Vin and Nathan teamed up to either save Buck from Josiah, or dunk both of them. It could go either way.

Travis nodded his approval. “Sometimes you can’t start repairing the damage until you’ve actually broke. I’d say JD found his breaking point.” He looked at Chris like a proud father. “I think his brothers are exactly what he needs to put the pieces back together.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

Breaking Point  
The End  
~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always hated ending a multi-chapter story. I never want to stop playing with the characters, but, I remind myself that there is always another story. Still, endings never feel right to me.   
> So, let me know if I screwed it up.


End file.
